


Victims of Circumstance

by SirMuffinsworth



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, Dangan Ronpa 3: The End of 希望ヶ峰学園 | The End of Kibougamine Gakuen | End of Hope's Peak High School, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Non-Despair (Dangan Ronpa), Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Child Abuse, Eventual Fluff, Eventual Romance, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Hajime and Peko Get a Cat, Hajime swears a lot, Hurt/Comfort, Neglectful Parenting, Sato is a first name for convenience, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-01
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-18 15:33:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 56,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29120520
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirMuffinsworth/pseuds/SirMuffinsworth
Summary: Hajime Hinata is a talentless reserve course student, down on his luck, and free to make his own misguided choices.Peko Pekoyama is an elite swordswoman, on top of the world at Hope's Peak Academy, and is utterly bound to the clan that raised her from childhood.They couldn't be more different. More separate.The strings of fate have ways of tying people like this together.
Relationships: Hinata Hajime & Koizumi Mahiru, Hinata Hajime & Kuzuryu Natsumi, Hinata Hajime/Pekoyama Peko, Koizumi Mahiru/Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko (minor), Koizumi Mahiru/Sato (one-sided), Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko & Pekoyama Peko, Kuzuryu Fuyuhiko & Tanaka Gundham, Sonia Nevermind/Soda Kazuichi (one-sided)
Comments: 41
Kudos: 49





	1. Two Faces

“We are sorry, the number you have dialled is either out of service or has been discontinued. If you would like to speak with an operator who can redirect your call, plea---”

Hajime Hinata pressed the button on his phone to hang up. He sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose ruefully as he settled down on the couch.

“They finally had enough, huh…” he muttered.

He had wondered why his monthly cheque from his parents was late in the mail. It was true that mail from outside didn’t get delivered to his complex very often, so the boy had initially thought that it was just delayed. That phone call, however, proved otherwise.

Hajime had lived apart from his parents for as long as he could remember. Many people had tried to explain the logistics of it to him over the course of his life, but nothing had ever really stuck. All he knew about them were that they were filthy rich, that one of them probably had brown hair and/or green eyes, and that they were both japanese. For the first fifteen years of his life, Hajime had lived with his uncle, who had passed away two years prior due to a car accident. Since then, he had been renting a middle-of-the-road apartment downtown and living off the hefty child support cheque his parents were legally forced to send him, as well as a handful of jobs.

Not to mention his student life at Hope’s Peak.

Hope’s Peak Academy, the nation’s pride and joy. Where the youngsters from all over with “ultimate” talents receive a free, top-of-the-line education to hone their skills to become the nation’s next great hope for the new generation. It was every kid’s dream to be enrolled in its main course. Hajime included. When they had rolled out the reserve course the year prior, he had jumped at the chance to enroll. Attendance tuition would eat up most of his income, sure, but he figured he could live on cup noodles for a while. He exercised regularly, it wasn’t like a poor diet would be the end of the world for him.

“I have a proposition for you, Mr. Hinata.”

Hajime eyed the document that sat on his coffee table. It remained unsigned, staring at him like a scarlet-clad temptress. He knew it was the wrong call, but…

Hajime tapped the call icon on his phone again. The number that he had saved as his parents’ home phone -the only method he actually had of contacting them- popped up again. It didn’t even ring.

“We are sorry, the number you have--”

Hajime shook his head and hung up again.

“Bastards,” he thought, “Got sick of paying for your own flesh and blood, so you just bail, huh. That’s cute, that’s real cute. I’d say that deadbeatery was a bad look on you if I actually knew what you looked like.”

In a surge of rage, he tossed his phone against the wall. It landed with a light thud, not breaking due to the heavy-duty case he kept on it, before falling to the ground.

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!”

Hajime rolled his eyes at the muffled scream through the wall. His neighbor, Hisoshi, or whatever, seemed to be drunk again. 2 pm on a Wednesday. Later than usual. Hajime sighed and ran a hand through his hair in thought, eyeing the papers on the coffee table.

“Rent is 435 per month in this complex. I guess I can pick up another evening at the factory to get three per week, not to mention the days I work at McD’s on saturdays and sundays. That would have me making about 374 dollars a week, or 1496 a month. Rent knocks that down to 1061 per month. Allotting 150 per week on groceries, that makes another 600 per month, taking it down to 461. Utilities knocks it down another 150, so 311 now. Putting 150 into savings per month would knock that down to 161. I can probably survive on a 60 dollar budget per month to cover any emergencies like tax fare, new clothing, or public transport, which leaves about a hundred bucks to go towards Hope’s Peak per month.”

Hajime slammed his fist on the coffee table beside him, before finishing, “less than a quarter of what the bare minimum is to stay in the reserve course. And that’s assuming I pirate all of my textbooks and nothing happens to my uniform.”

The document on the table seemed like it was mocking him. He could almost picture the grinning face of the bald scientist-type who had handed it to him a month prior. He had read it all over, he wasn’t stupid. Every scrap of legalese and fine print, Hajime had reviewed and taken into account. He knew what signing would mean giving up.

But still…

Hajime felt his stomach growl. He swallowed his own saliva and sighed.

“Am I willing to leave Hope’s Peak?”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, Uncle Arai?”

“What is it, Hajime?”

“Where do you go every day?”

“Oh, just off to work. I have to scout kids with talents, that takes a lot of driving around. That’s why I’m always back so late.”

“Talents?”

“Oh, you know, kids who are really good at something naturally. Like it’s in their blood or something. I’ve been doing this job for Hope’s Peak for years now, I’ve got a pretty good eye.”

“Cool! Do you think I have a talent?”

Arai smiled and patted Hajime on the head, “You just might, kiddo, you just might. Now run back along to Nana, I have to go to work now.”

“Do I have to? Nana is so mean.”

“I know she is, I’m sorry, but you’re too young to stay home alone.”

“Fine…”

Hajime stomped back over to his Nana as Arai stepped out the front door.

“Don’t let that man fill your head with delusions, child,” Nana shook her head bitterly, “In this world, you’re either born with talent or you’re nothing. You’re nine years old now, and I haven’t actually seen you be good at anything, besides making a nuisance of yourself. Now go to bed.”

“Nana, it’s 10 am.”

“You heard me.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime bit his tongue to keep from screaming in rage. That memory was years old now, over half a decade, but that wrinkly bitch still forced her way into his head every now and then. He had sworn he could hear her still laughing at him when they put her in the ground a year back.

“You’re either born with talent or you’re nothing,” his chuckle was dry as he stood, “I’ll show you.”

Hajime grabbed a pen from his desk, as well as the document that sat on his coffee table. With only one more moment of hesitation, he scribbled his name and date of birth in the provided spaces on the final page. 

The red ink stood out against the white paper like crimson blood splashed against a wall, but Hajime didn’t notice as he tucked it into his bookbag and headed out the door to deliver it.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Your posture is off today,” Fukuda said, reaching down to help Peko up, “You’re making it too easy to approach you.”

Peko nodded dutifully, lightly caressing the spot on her forearm where Fukuda’s training sword had struck.

“My apologies, teacher,” she bowed, “I did not get much sleep yesterday. Some classmates were keeping me busy.”

“Classmates?” Fukuda raised his eyebrow, taking a swig from his water bottle, “You haven’t been getting too close to any of them, have you? Remember your purpose.”

“Of course. I am keeping them at arm’s length, and while at school, I try to make as many excuses to stay by the young master’s side as much as possible. Though, it is difficult when he does not want me around.”

“Yes, the oyabun has spoken to him about that, but he seems insistent on being seperate from you while at school.”

Peko nodded, “He has even ordered me to… make friends with our classmates. I admit to being a little apprehensive around some of them. I don’t believe any of them are untrustworthy, but they are a touch… eccentric.”

Fukuda chuckled, “Yes, I remember the ways of ultimates from my time at Hope’s Peak too.”

Peko raised an eyebrow at her teacher, “One moment, you attended Hope’s Peak?”

“Oh, had I not mentioned that before? I was the Ultimate Swordsman of my class a few decades ago, back when the oyabun was the Ultimate Yakuza.”

Peko blinked. Fukuda has not, in fact, mentioned that before, though it did make sense. Who better to train the Ultimate Swordswoman than the former Ultimate Swordsman?

“Anyway,” Fukuda said as he placed his practice sword back on the rack, “It seems your company has arrived.”

Peko turned to the doorway of the dojo, to find her young masters Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu and Natsumi Kuzuryu waiting there for her.

“Yo,” Fuyuhiko said, waving a hand nonchalantly, “Get changed, we gotta get to class.”

“Of course, young master. I apologize for losing track of time.”

“Oh, it wasn’t the girl’s fault,” Fukuda said as Peko darted off to the changing room, “I was hard on her today.”

Peko hastily towelled off her sweat-drenched hair and tied it back into the twin braid that she found so practical. She flung off her hakama (neatly folded, of course) and changed into her Hope’s Peak main course uniform.

“I’ll just take a shower when I get there,” she thought as she tied her actual sword around her back, “Provided Akane isn’t in there already.”

Fuyuhiko and Fukuda were engaged in some polite ribbing off to the side when she emerged, double checking her book bag for everything she needed. Natsumi waved politely at her.

“Young mistress,” Peko nodded respectfully, “Are you prepared for your first day at the reserve course?”

“Ugh,” the blonde girl turned up her nose, “No, but I can’t imagine anybody is too prepared to get flung into a pigsty full of talentless meatsacks. I don’t intend to be there long, thanks.”

“I… meant as in, are you caught up on your missed homework assignments from the months you weren’t there for, but I suppose I understand your apprehension.”

“Oh yeah, that’s all done. Pretty breezy, honestly. For all the acclaim Hope’s Peak gets as a preparatory school, it sure isn’t pushing its walking money IVs too hard.”

“Hey now, no need for that,” Fuyuhiko said as he joined the girls, “Natsumi, I know how much it sucks, but you gotta at least try to make something like a connection there.”

“I’d rather not, thanks,” Natsumi shook her head.

“I didn’t want to make friends with my classmates either, but they’re actually pretty cool. You just gotta get used to them. Back me up here, Peko.”

“It’s true,” Peko nodded as the trio departed, “Some of our classmates have proven themselves quite kind, despite their many oddities. I’m sure you will find some friends if you search for them.”

“Like I want the advice of a glorified pocket knife,” Natsumi crossed her arms indignantly.

“Hey!” Fuyuhiko snapped, turning to glare at his sister, “That was uncalled for. Apologize.”

“Oh, there’s really no need,” Peko insisted, but Fuyuhiko’s gaze did not relent.

“...fine. I’m sorry, Peko,” Natsumi huffed as the three turned onto the street of Hope’s Peak.

“It’s quite alright.”

The three continued in silence until they entered the grounds of Hope’s Peak, at which point Natsumi broke off from the two ultimates and began heading towards the reserve course building. She sent a hasty wave over her shoulder as she departed, disappearing into a sea of slumped shoulders and black uniforms.

“I do hope she finds some friends who can… handle her,” Fuyuhiko sighed as they continued on towards the main campus.

“Young master, if Nekomaru and Teruteru could find friends in school, I am sure your sister can.”

Fuyuhiko chuckled, “You’re probably right. But hey, we’re on campus now. That’s Fuyuhiko to you.”

“Right, my apologies,” Peko resisted her natural urge to bow.

“SHENANIGANS!”

Peko’s hand whipped to the hilt of her sword as a loud guitar riff sounded from a bush the pair had been passing. Ibuki Mioda hopped out, holding her guitar in one hand for effect, and pointing an accusatory finger at the two.

“You two are walking to school together now! What’s going on between you two?”

“Christ, Ibuki, you fuckin’ scared the shit outta me,” Fuyuhiko grumbled as Peko sighed.

The musician’s gaze was a cross between curious and manic as her head whipped between the two.

“We have a similar route to school, Ibuki,” Peko said, “We often cross paths on the way here.”

Ibuki’s eyes narrowed suspiciously but she didn’t object. Instead, she just shrugged, and said, “If you say so. But Ibuki’s gonna get to the bottom of this, mark my words.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Fuyuhiko said as Ibuki began to skip away to the main course building.

“Do not concern yourself with her, young m-- Fuyuhiko,” Peko caught herself, “She means no harm.”

“Yeah yeah, I know, she’s just nuts. Now let’s go, I don’t wanna know what Yukizome’ll do to us if we’re late for class.”

As they continued on towards the main building, they passed the central fountain. Out of the corner of her eye, Peko made note of a spiky-haired reserve course student with a downcast expression heading away from the main building and towards the reserve course building, but she didn’t make much note of him.

He was, after all, just a reserve course student.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I said at the end of my last fic, When Our World Falls Apart, that I was probably going to leave the SDR2 cast alone for a bit. 
> 
> Mr. Inspiration had a different idea. The inspiration actually came from me considering why exactly Hinapeko just isn't really a thing in the DR fandom at large, despite Hajime literally having a crush on her during her free time events.
> 
> Character and relationship tags will be added as applicable.


	2. First Impression

Hajime rubbed the fatigue from his eyes as he settled down into his chair in the back corner of the room. His classmates all wore similar expressions of beaten down-ness and stress. None of them paid him much mind as they swarmed together in their closed cliques, which was just how he liked it, thank you very much. Not that he was opposed to other people, but the radiating aura of hopelessness and despair that the other students in the reserve course gave off made him sick to his stomach. It was like they had all just given up.

Hajime passed the time by doodling in the margins of his notebook. The drawings were crude, but they took up time. Eventually, the teacher that he had never bothered to learn the name of wobbled in, shoulders hunched and looking a bit hungover.

“Nothing out of the usual there,” Hajime rolled his eyes.

Slowly, noticing the teacher’s entrance, the other students shuffled to their seats. They could hardly be called attentive, but at least they were quiet.

“Attention class,” the teacher monotoned, “We have a new transfer student joining us today. Miss Kuzuryu, if you could come in and introduce yourself.”

The sliding door opened, revealing a short girl with long blonde hair and rosy cheeks. Her green eyes danced with fire as she strode haughtily to the front of the room.

“Fine, I guess I can introduce myself to you losers,” the girl smirked, “The name’s Natsumi Kuzuryu. Remember the name, but don’t get too used to the face. I don’t expect to be here with you talentless meatsacks for too long. My big brother is the Ultimate Yakuza, after all.”

All around him, Hajime noticed his classmates bristling at the newcomer -Natsumi, apparently- and her spunk that they were not at all used to. Hajime just chuckled dryly.

“So she’s related to an ultimate, huh,” he thought, eyeing the girl, “I’ve heard the name Kuzuryu before, it’s a yakuza group that’s been on the news before. This one’s certainly optimistic, that’s a change of pace around here.”

With one last defiant grin, Natsumi walked over to the only empty seat in the room and sat down in it, meeting the death glares she received one by one. That seat, coincidentally, happened to be right next to Hajime.

“I wonder how long that optimism will last,” he finished his thought.

“What are you looking at, poser?” Natsumi spat when she noticed him surveying her.

“One hell of a first impression,” he remarked, “There’s a whole lot of spoiled rich babies in this room that can’t have taken too kindly to that, you must realize.”

The girl smirked, “Eh, let ‘em be pissed, I don’t care. I won’t be around long anyways.”

Hajime just shrugged and turned back to his doodles as the teacher began his lecture on the quadratic equation. Hajime didn’t bother paying too much attention, he had already read over the entire chapter in his textbook. He usually got all the work done for a chapter at the start of the week anyways, if only so that he could afford to zone out in class.

As usual, Hajime found his gaze drifting towards the main campus building. Compared to the glorified shack that was the reserve course building, the main campus stood like a temple of old, refurbished and modernized to stand as a beacon of superiority. It certainly did that job well enough, at least.

Hajime’s eyes tiredly swept across the school grounds that he could see from his window seat. He could vaguely make out a muscle-bound woman sitting on a blanket beneath a tree, sharing donuts with a tanned girl and laughing. Across the yard from them, a girl in a gothic lolita outfit and questionable hair extensions shared tea with a blond guy with glasses while a girl in purple watched from behind a tree.

“Despicable,” he inwardly complained, “Look at them, lazing the day away while us normal people are stuck here in snoozeville. It’s like they take their talents for granted or something. Aren’t they supposed to be here to nurture those talents?”

“Yo, normie,” he heard from his left as he felt his desk get kicked, “You alive in there?”

Hajime broke from his resentful reverie to find Natsumi Kuzuryu sitting on her desk, foot against his own.

“Yeah,” he replied, “In spite of the efforts of this hellhole, I am, in fact, still alive.”

Natsumi chuckled, “Class has been over for ten minutes. I was startin’ to think you had gotten lost in the clouds. What were you even looking at?’

Hajime shrugged, “The main campus, what do you think?”

“Ah, yeah,” the girl smiled as she surveyed the scene Hajime had gotten lost in, “That’s where I’m headed. Pretty soon, you all can kiss my ass goodbye.”

“You aren’t the only one here trying to make something of themself, I’ll have you know,” Hajime raised an eyebrow at her, “I’ve got a plan to boost myself up, too.”

“That so?” Natsumi’s hard gaze softened slightly as she surveyed him, “In that case, I get the sense we’re the minority here.”

“You’d be right about that. Most of these people have largely given up and submitted to mediocrity. Whatever mommy and daddy’s wallets can’t get them is unattainable in their eyes.”

“Fuckin’ losers.”

Natsumi extended her hand to Hajime.

“In case you didn’t catch it, the name’s Natsumi Kuzuryu.”

Hajime shook her hand, “With an introduction like you gave, I’d be hard pressed to forget it. Hajime Hinata, pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

“So, Hajime, what’s this secret master plan of yours to boost your butt outta this dump?”

“Sorry, it’s a bit confidential. I’d tell you if I could.”

Natsumi laughed, “I see, worried I might snag it from you? Don’t worry, I’ve already got a talent in mind for myself lined up. Ultimate Little Sister.”

Hajime cocked his head, “Is… that something you can be… good at? I kinda thought that was just something you get born into.”

“You’re damn right it’s something I can be good at! I’ve been supporting my big brother my whole life! Only reason I’m here right now is ‘cuz that scout asshole couldn’t see excellence if it kicked him in the dick.”

Hajime found himself smiling at the girl’s crudeness. He wasn’t a very crass person, himself, but the fire in the girl’s gut was heartening to someone who had only seen misery in his peers for so long.

“So anyway,” Natsumi continued, “Who’ve you got your sights set on?”

“Pardon?” Hajime asked.

The yakuza girl smiled, “You know, if something happens to a main courser that makes them drop out, they gotta pull somebody up from the reserve course to take their spot. I dunno about you, but I’ve got the perfect candidate in mind…”

“OH, FUCK THAT!”

Hajime and Natsumi both turned to find a new arrival standing at the door of the largely empty classroom. The girl there had long green hair andmatching eyes, and was absolutely fuming at the mere sight of Natsumi. Hajime didn’t know the girl’s name, but he recalled passing her in the hall a few times.

“You better not be thinking of laying a dirty finger on Mahiru!” the girl continued, storming through the classroom to loom over Natsumi threateningly.

“Well, if it isn’t Sato,” Natsumi smiled, unconcerned by the obvious bloodlust emanating from the green-haired girl, “And here I was hoping to have been done with your carpet-munching face.”

“Oh, shut it, yakuza bitch. I dunno what you’re thinking, transferring into the reserve course, but you had better damn well drop it now. You should learn your place in the world, you aren’t special.”

“I… take it you two know each other then,” Hajime deadpanned, clearly not asking.

“I suffered through photography club with her back in middle school,” Natsumi replied, meeting Sato’s angry glare with a calm fire, “Her and her pathetic butt-buddy main course friend.”

Sato fumed, “I overheard what you said. If you even think about looking at Mahiru in a way that makes her afraid, I swear as god as my witness I will make you pay.”

“Oh, you’re so scary,” Natsumi replied sarcastically.

“Mahiru…” Hajime’s mind clicked, “As in Koizumi? The 77th class’s Ultimate Photographer? I’ve seen her name come up around campus every now and then. You two are friends?”

Sato eyed him suspiciously, “Who the fuck are you? Some friend of hers? A lackey?”

“Hardly call him a friend,” Natsumi shook her head, grinning, “We did just meet this morning. It’s just nice to talk to somebody else who hasn’t completely submitted to the system.”

“Well then, in that case, my warning goes to you, too. If you even think of laying a hand on her, I will make you regret it. You’re in the reserve course, you two, that means there’s nothing special about you. There never will be. Just learn your place.”

Hajime felt a flush of rage flare up in his gut, but he quelled it so as not to make more of a scene than the two girls already had. 

“Sato…?”

The voice of another new arrival spoke up, causing all three heads to turn. Indeed, this newcomer was garnering the attention of everyone in the room, standing out through her bright red hair and sleek main course uniform. The girl carried two bento boxes under her arm, and her eyes widened when her gaze fell on Natsumi.

“Oh great, it’s a fucking party now,” Natsumi rolled her eyes, “Come to grace the duds of the world with your presence, Mahiru?”

“Wh-what are you doing here, Natsumi?” Mahiru asked, clearly trying to stop her shoulders from shaking under the yakuza girl’s intense gaze, “I thought you were going to Kodaka High.”

“She just transferred in today,” Sato spat, “I hardly believed the rumors myself until I saw her with my own eyes.”

“Damn straight,” Natsumi chuckled, “And I’m not here to stay. I’ll be making my way to the main course pretty soon, and I dunno if I’d get too comfy with that spot of yours, Mahiru.”

Her gaze darkened as she continued, “After all, the people on the pedestals have the greatest chance of falling off.”

Sato’s eyes widened in anger as she wound up her fist for a punch, “YOU BITCH!”

“Hey!” Hajime bolted up and caught Sato’s arm before she could swing, “There’s no need for violence here, all you’ll do is get yourself in trouble.”

“Oh, piss off, flunkie,” Sato spat at him as she shoved him off.

“Sato, let’s just go,” Mahiru tugged at her friend’s shirt sleeve, “Come on, please. I brought lunch.”

Sato’s threatening gaze passed over Natsumi and Hajime one last time before she finally said, “Fine.”

With that, Sato stormed off.

“Yeah, enjoy your lunch!” Natsumi taunted, “If that’s what you call eating each other out, I mean…”

“Natsumi,” Hajime sighed, “I get that it’s kinda your whole deal, but considering she just tried to attack you, I might save the insults until after they’re out of earshot for now.”

Natsumi huffed but didn’t object. As she followed her friend out of the room, Hajime noticed Mahiru shoot him an apologetic look and a polite nod of acknowledgement.

“So that’s what a main course student is like, huh,” he chuckled as he watched her leave, “Much less imposing of a presence than I thought there would be.”

“I’ll have you know I didn’t need your help back there,” Natsumi turned up her nose at him, before her face softened slightly and she whispered, “But thanks.”

With that, Natsumi grabbed her bag and ran off out of the classroom, leaving all the other students to awkwardly start conversations with whoever was nearby to pretend like they hadn’t been listening in on the whole exchange.

“At the least it was a more lively day than usual,” Hajime muttered as he too began to pack up his things.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Yo, Natsumi!” Fuyuhiko called with a wave as his sister approached their predetermined meeting spot.

Natsumi gave a friendly wave in response as she ran up.

“How was your first day in the reserve course?” Peko asked.

“About as dull as it could have been,” Natsumi replied with a sigh, “Ran into a couple of unfriendly faces at lunchtime.”

“Right, Mahiru did say she was going down to the reserve course at lunch today,” Fuyuhiko nodded, “I was worried you two might bump into each other. You didn’t start shit with her, did you?”

“I didn’t start anything,” Natsumi shook her head, “Her girl-toy Sato started everything, screaming her fucking head off for no reason. Tried to make a go for me, too.”

“Oh no, are you injured?” Peko asked with concern.

“Nah, some guy grabbed her arm before she could do anything. Hajime is his name.”

“Hajime, huh?” Fuyuhiko asked as they began to walk, “Is he gonna be the friend I asked that you make?”

“Oh, lay off it, I just met the guy,” Natsumi rolled her eyes, “But he at least seems more bearable than most people in that damned class. It’s like they’re scarecrows, they’re just so lifeless.”

“Well, I’m glad you didn’t get off on the wrong foot with absolutely everybody,” Fuyuhiko chuckled, “Come on, you two, let’s get back before Ibuki jumps outta another bush at us.”

Peko nodded and followed the two yakuza children off of school grounds.

“Hajime, hmm…” she wondered, “As long as she’s at Hope’s Peak, the young mistress is as much assigned to my protection as the young master. I suppose since I am unable to be at her side in the reserve course, it couldn't hurt to run a brief background check on those she will be around…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, the obligatory despair arc episode 2 rewrite chapter is done. There are a lot of these on this site already, I know, sorry, there's just no way to make a story like this work without one.


	3. Inciting Incident

Peko fiddled with her ascot idly as she poured over her notations from Yukizome earlier that day. Her nights were usually packed, but between training with Fukuda and additional matters pertaining to her station as the right hand of the Kuzuryu heir, she had found little time for her studies that day. As such, it was now eleven thirty PM, and she was only just now beginning her review of the day’s work.

While Hope’s Peak did not necessarily demand that students receive an education that was in any way rounded, instead opting to focus on developing the student’s inborn talent even further, Miss Chisa Yukizome thought differently. She figured that, along with developing their various talents, the students could benefit from studying each other, as well as traditional lectures on culture, science, and mathematics from the teacher herself. 

Peko sighed, finally relenting to the voice in her head demanding she stomach her pride, and pulled out her mobile. She thumbed through her chat listings until she found the group chat that Chiaki had instated for all the female members of their class, and sent her question out.

Pekyama: Apologies, but I’m a bit stuck on my homework. The section on radians is giving me some trouble, can anybody remind me how to find the root?

Peko waited a few moments before the first response dinged.

GuitarHeroine: LOL, soz can’t hlp ya, didnt pay attention whops

The swordswoman rolled her eyes at Ibuki’s poorly grammared response.

Hungry: Me neither

Galagal: I’m not sure either, but I can come over to your place to help if you want

Pekyama: No, it’s fine, I can likely figure it out on my own. Worse comes to worst, I will contact Kazuichi, he seemed to have a handle on this.

2BQueenie: Based on the binoculars poking out of my backyard hedge, I presume Kazuichi is otherwise occupied.

Gummies: Ew, perv alert

Jeez: Wow, Peko, it’s really late. Do you work after school or something?

Pekyama: Difficult to explain, do not worry about it.

Peko sighed and signed off before Ibuki could question her. That musician was largely too curious about her life, and it was bad enough that she had recognized something going on between her and Fuyuhiko. 

“Peko?” came the sleepy voice of her young master from the doorway. Fuyuhiko was leaning on her bedroom door, eyes half shut, looking at her questioningly.

“Oh, young master, I didn’t wake you, did I?” she asked.

“Nah, I was just gonna get some water,” he shook his head, “You’re up later than usual.”

Peko nodded, “Yes, after-school training with Fukuda ran long today, and your father called me in for an unexpected meeting. I will head to bed after I attend to my studies.”

Fuyuhiko raised an eyebrow, “You know none of that’s for grades, right? Yukizome just hands ‘em out for the hell of it.”

The swordswoman shrugged, “Perhaps, but it’s entirely possible I may one day need this knowledge. Or, more aptly, you may. As your tool, therefore, it is my job to learn it if you do not.”

Fuyuhiko just nodded absently, clearly only half paying attention. His eyes, however, widened when he noticed her face in the dim light from her lamp.

“Yo, what’s up with your cheek? You get hurt or somethin?”

Peko’s hand flew to her cheek to hide the bruise she had forgotten about, “Oh, no, it’s nothing. Fukuda has been somewhat tough on me recently, he believes I’ve been slacking off, that’s all.”

A few beats of silence permeated as Fuyuhiko studied her.

“...alright then. Night, Peko.”

“Goodnight, young master.”

Peko breathed a sigh of relief when Fuyuhiko closed her bedroom door behind him. Over the many years of growing up together, the swordswoman had grown adept at lying to Fuyuhiko, if only ever to spare his feelings. She knew how much he respected his father, the oyabun, and she also knew how much he cared for her. More than a typical yakuza should for their tool, honestly. She knew she could not afford to cause those two aspects of Fuyuhiko’s life to clash within him, the boy had too much on his plate as it stood.

~~~~~~~~~~

“You wished to speak with me, oyabun?”

Peko bowed upon her entry into the oyabun’s quarters. The man himself, Masayoshi Kuzuryu, was a stout and portly gentleman, in a pin-striped three piece and flicking a cigar into a ceramic dragon ashtray.

“Yes, I did. Come in.”

Peko bowed again and approached the oyabun’s desk, which he sat behind as he eyed her.

“Have a seat, girl,” Masayoshi gestured to the green chair across from his desk. Peko nodded and took it, settling into a strict, upright posture, while keeping her head bowed respectfully.

“What is it you wish of me, oyabun?” she asked.

“You know my daughter, Natsumi, is going to be attending Hope’s Peak from now on?”

“Yes, I am aware. She accompanied the young master and myself on our route to and from there today.”

Masayoshi eyed her, “Did she mention what happened during her first day there?”

Peko searched her memory, “She mentioned little, only that she doesn’t seem to get along with most of her new classmates. Though one of them supposedly did defend her from a potential assailant, named Sato, who she has mentioned before from her middle school days.”

The oyabun was silent for a few moments, his steely gaze making Peko resist the urge to squirm in her seat.

“...sir?” she eventually asked.

“About what you said just now…” Masayoshi said slowly, “What was wrong with it?”

Peko blinked, “I… don’t know what you mean.”

“One of her classmates defended her. One of her classmates.”

“Yes, that’s correct.”

“And what, girl, would have happened had that conveniently placed classmate not been there to protect my daughter?”

“...well, I suppose tha--URK!”

Peko cried out in pain as the oyabun’s meaty fist collided with the side of her face, launching her from her chair and sending her sprawling onto the floor.

“That, girl,” the man said as she swallowed blood from a bitten cheek, “Is what would have happened. And where would you have been?”

“Ah,” she thought as she got up, “I see, I should have expected backlash from that incident.”

“I apologize, sir. I would have been in the main campus, unable to protect her.”

“Precisely,” Masayoshi settled back down into his seat, eyes as cold as ever, “As long as she is attending Hope’s Peak alongside you and Fuyuhiko, her protection is just as much a priority as my son’s, got it?”

Peko blanched, but said nothing.

The oyabun eyed her, “Got something to say? Spit it the fuck out, I don’t got time.”

“My only concern,” Peko measured her words, “Is that I cannot be in two places at once. The young mistress is attending classes at the reserve course, an entirely seperate campus across the property. I could feasibly divide my time between your two children, but I see no way to defend them both simultaneously.”

Masayoshi nodded slowly, “Point taken. In that case, this would-be assailant you mentioned. Sato, was it? Make some kind of example out of her. My daughter is hardly tactful with people she deems herself better than, so it’s not like I don’t understand their animosity towards her, but let’s make sure none of the little shits ever try something like that again, eh?”

Peko raised an eyebrow, “Would you have me kill the girl, or…?”

The man shook his bald head, “Nothing so extreme. Just make sure she doesn’t try any of that bullshit again, and make it visible. Now get out of my office.”

Peko bowed and left.

~~~~~~~~~~~

The swordswoman rubbed the bruise on her face as she put aside her study notes. The pain had faded mostly, but her inner cheek still flared up in pain whenever she tried to chew.

She sighed and flipped open her laptop, revealing the two pages she had previously had open. Hope’s Peak was hardly secretive about its student records, wanting to flaunt its ultimates as much as possible, but this also meant that information on the reserve course students was easy to come by as well, through the same database.

SATO ESUMI  
Sex: F  
Ht: 163cm  
Wt: 48kg  
Birth: 01/14  
Chest: 78cm  
Blood: O  
Likes: Photography  
Dislikes: Math  
Class: 77  
Talent: N/A

HAJIME HINATA  
Sex: M  
Ht: 179cm  
Wt: 67kg  
Birth: 01/01  
Chest: 91cm  
Blood: A  
Likes: Kusamochi  
Dislikes: Sakuramochi  
Class: 77  
Talent: N/A

Peko closed Hinata’s tab without another thought. Internet research had revealed little about the boy, but it was somewhat clear he was of no consequence. If Natsumi befriended him, there would be no problems. He had no gang affiliations, no noteworthy bloodlines, and a very meager social media presence. Overall, nobody Peko saw fit to bother.

It was Sato Esumi who was the true concern. Apparently, the girl had been temporarily suspended several times in her elementary and middle school careers for violence against other students, so what had happened with Natsumi was hardly out of character for her. She, unlike Hinata, was rather active on social media.

Peko felt her gut twist with guilt as she scrolled through Sato’s feed, noting the abundance of selfies featuring one Mahiru Koizumi, the Ultimate Photographer of her very own class, and one of the girls who had gone out of their way to befriend Peko early on in their years together.

“If those two are close,” she thought, “I will have to be cautious when I go for Sato not to reveal my face or anything identifiable about myself. I cannot risk them conversing and deducing my involvement with the Kuzuryus, not when my young master is so fervent in his disdain for me playing my role in public.”

Peko’s eyes finally settled on a photograph of a rainy street, captioned “Guess I’m not going outside today, lol”. The image piqued her interest because it seemed to have been taken from out of a front facing window. She plugged the image into a reverse-image search and was redirected to Google Maps’ streetview of the same lot. Sato lived less than a few blocks away from Hope’s Peak Academy, which made sense given the lack of public transportation to get into the school itself.

“I can get there and back in about forty minutes,” she gauged, “The young masters awaken for school at seven AM each day, which means I should set my alarm for about five thirty if I want to be covert about this.”

The swordswoman sighed and closed her laptop, making to shower and change into her bedclothes. It was a late night before what was going to be an early and unpleasant start, and she wanted to be as well rested as possible.

~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, she graces us mere mortals with her presence yet again,” Hajime said sarcastically as Natsumi took her seat beside him the following morning.

The yakuza girl snorted, “Only begrudgingly. I can only expose myself to the odor of hopelessness for so long, it’s bad for my skin.”

The loudspeaker above the collected reserve course students’ heads crackled to life with the dry voice of the reserve course dean, who was clearly sleep deprived.

“Attention reserve students of Class 77, Mr. Okitsugu has phoned in sick this morning and it’s too late to call in a sub, so your class will be a study hall today. That’s all.”

“Well now, today is your lucky day,” Hajime laughed as the students around him immediately began to pack up their things to leave.

“Seriously?” Natsumi was incredulous, “I knew that guy was hopeless from the second he started talking to me yesterday, but how late do you gotta phone in for this shit to happen?”

“Welcome to the reserve course,” Hajime shrugged, “Dude pulls this crap at least once a week. Fifty-fifty odds between him being boozed out of his gourd or just too lazy to care. You’ll get used to it.”

The blonde huffed and planted her chin in her hands as Hajime stood.

“Aren’t you gonna head out?” he asked, “Everybody else is gonna go back to their dorms or houses at this point.”

“I can’t,” she complained, “I walk home after school with my big brother and his, uh… friend every day. I gotta fuckin’ stay here until it’s the usual time.”

Hajime thought for a moment, “Well, you don’t necessarily have to stay here. You just have to be back in time for those two to come grab you, right?”

Natsumi eyed him suspiciously, “Hajime, if this is your dumbass idea of getting me out for a date…”

Hajime felt his eyelids drop half an inch as he inwardly judged the girl for her self absorption.

“Hardly. I was about to offer to give you a tour of what sections of campus we can actually access, but if you’re gonna be annoying about it, never mind.”

Hajime made to leave, but his wrist got grabbed from behind.

“Alright, fine, you can give me the grand tour,” Natsumi sighed, “Not like there’s anything better to do. Why wouldn’t they give me that when I first transferred here anyways?”

“Reserve course,” Hajime reminded her, “Administration doesn’t really care about us, they just care how deep our pockets are.”

Natsumi chuckled as she swung her book bag over her shoulder, “What does that make you, then? You don’t exactly strike me as the moneybags type.”

“I’m not, but my folks are.”

“Oh? What are they, some bigwig stuffy execs or some shit?”

Hajime shook his head, “Your guess is as good as mine. I’ve never met either of them. Only reason I even know their names is from the signatures on the child support cheques I get in the mail. Well, used to get, they’ve cut me off now.”

Natsumi didn’t immediately respond to that. Hajime turned back as he opened the door to find her a few paces back, apparently having stopped and was now surveying Hajime with a new look in her eyes. A look Hajime had never seen on her before. It was almost… softer.

“Oh,” she began, “I… didn’t know that. Sorry, I shouldn’t’a brought it up.”

“It’s alright,” he reassured, “I don’t care about those deadbeats anyway. They’ve never done much for me, why bother defending them just because they’re my blood?”

“So do you live with your grandparents or something?”

“No, I live on my own. I used to live with my Uncle Arai, but he got in a car accident a few years ago. Now I just rent a cheap apartment a few blocks away from here.”

Natsumi’s expression was unreadable as she followed Hajime out into the hall, but she didn’t press the issue further. The two walked in silence out of the campus, intending to start the tour at the main gate. Once they reached the fountain, Hajime spotted a certain redhead running from the direction of the main course building.

“Hey look, it’s your friend,” he said sarcastically.

“Ugh,” Natsumi groaned, averting her gaze as one would from a garbage can filled with compost.

Mahiru was clutching a phone in her hand as she ran, face full of concern. Her eyes eventually latched onto Natsumi, shooting her a dirty look as she passed them and began heading towards the main gate. Natsumi returned it with a sneer.

“Wonder what’s got her panties in a twist,” the yakuza girl chuckled.

Hajime just shrugged, before resuming his walk. He wasn’t sure why, but he got a bit of a foreboding feeling from the look that Mahiru had given Natsumi.

“Hey, I don’t suppose you saw Sato on your way to school today?” he asked.

Natsumi raised an eyebrow at him, “No, why would I? Even if she was there, I doubt I woulda paid her any attention. Why do you ask?”

“No reason, really. I just got a bad feeling…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We've begun to diverge from canon now. Also, welcome to my attempt at making Hajime and Natsumi better friends than they were in canon. I never understood why they bothered to have the two of them meet and be at least friendly only to have it be basically a non-issue later on once Hajime got to know Fuyuhiko.


	4. Accusation

“NEOWR!”

Peko watched with amusement as Kazuichi Soda fell backwards in his chair, screeching like a baboon as he scrambled away from the very literal jungle cat that had roared in his ear.

“AUGH!” the mechanic screamed, “Gundham, get a leash on that thing, it’s looking at me like Akane looks at a pot roast!”

Gundham sighed as he stroked the tigress softly, “Cinderella will not feast on any here unless I tell her to. That being said, your cowardice radiates, which makes you easy prey for her.”

In front of Peko, Fuyuhiko groaned at the breeder, “Seriously man, first the bear, now a tiger? What next, an alligator?”

“Nonsense,” Gundham laughed, “Crocodiles, however…”

“Finish neither that sentence or thought, creep,” Hiyoko deadpanned, shooting Gundham a dirty look as she inched farther away from the tiger, apparently named Cinderella.

“Yo, Mahiru, you gotta get a shot of Kazuichi’s face right now,” Ibuki cracked, “It’s priceless!”

Silence stood as Ibuki whipped her head around in search of the photographer.

“Hey, where is she?”

Akane shrugged, “She bolted pretty soon after Yukizome finished roll call. Guess she had somewhere else to be.”

“She looked panicked,” Nagito remarked, running his fingers through his frizzy hair as Cinderella licked his cheek, “Maybe she heard some bad new-- ooh! That tickles!”

“I do hope everything is alright,” Sonia looked out the window in search of the redhead, but found no trace.

Peko stomached her nervousness and tried to display a calm demeanor, but she knew full well why the photographer was missing.

“Peko, you feeling alright?” Fuyuhiko asked, leaning over his shoulder, “You look kinda pale.”

“N-no!” she replied quickly, “I am fine, don’t worry about me.”

“I-If you aren’t f-feeling good, I could d-do a quick checkup for you…” Mikan took a hesitant step towards Peko, “I-if that’s alright, I mean…”

“Honestly, I’m fine,” Peko tried to force color into her face, “I am just a little chilly is all.”

Fuyuhiko shrugged, “Alright, whatever.”

The sliding door to the classroom began to creak open slowly, letting off a high-pitched whine as the unoiled hinges strained.

“Oh, hey Mahiru,” Nekomaru said, “What’s up?”

Peko shuddered as the photographer stepped into the room on shaky legs. Her hands were clenched into fists and her posture was low. To Peko’s trained eye, it was clear that the girl was incredibly on edge. And incredibly angry.

“Is everything okay?” Chiaki asked, “Nothing happened, did it?”

Mahiru did not respond, her neck turning slowly towards Peko, who froze.

“Does she know?” Peko’s mind raced, “No, there’s no way she could know. She doesn’t even know about my relationship to the yakuza. Did Sato get a look at my face? No, that’s impossible, I never took off the mask. Besides, Sato doesn’t even know me. She wouldn’t be able to identify me. Why would she be turning to look at me?!”

Peko’s momentary relief when Mahiru’s gaze passed over her was replaced with a jolt of anxiety when the girl’s deadly vision settled on Fuyuhiko.

“What?” the yakuza boy asked as the photographer began to walk towards him, “The fuck’s your deal?”

Mahiru reached down, grabbed the boy by the shirt collar, and yanked him upwards violently.

“HEY! The fuck’s the big idea!?”

Peko bolted upwards from her chair, hand going to the sword at her back like lightning to a rod.

“Fuyuhiko,” Mahiru’s voice was quiet and strained, like she was just barely keeping herself under control, “I take it you are aware of a certain dispute that happened yesterday between your younger sister and a reserve course student?”

“Yeah, some dumb bitch named Sato,” Fuyuhiko pulled Mahiru’s hands off of him and straightened his shirt, “What’s your point?”

Mahiru’s gaze darkened even further. The girl looked seconds away from assault, and Peko took a defensive step forward, causing Fuyuhiko to shoot her a cautioning look over his shoulder.

“I would like to know,” Mahiru said slowly, “What exactly did you do in response to that?”

“The fuck do you mean by that?”

“Sato has just been checked into the hospital because a goddamn masked assailant came at her this morning with a katana.”

Fuyuhiko froze.

“This Sato is a friend of yours, Mahiru?” Teruteru asked, glancing between her and Fuyuhiko nervously, “Is she…”

“She is alive,” Mahiru’s gaze never left Fuyuhiko’s eyes, “But whatever scumfuck came for her took a pound of flesh out of her left shoulder. Carved out a chunk like a fucking ice cream scoop the morning after she got into a fight with a member of the Kuzuryu yakuza. Your little sister, Fuyuhiko.”

Fuyuhiko gulped. Peko knew that this was the first he was hearing of this, but she got the sense that he knew exactly what was going on. The class was struck by a shocked silence, as this was the first time any of them had heard Mahiru use even a single curse. The photographer’s usual exasperated mother vibe was tossed out the window for something worse. Something violent.

“Mahiru…?” Hiyoko’s voice was timid.

“Mahiru, on my life,” Fuyuhiko raised a hand into the air, “I didn’t do anything to Sato. And I didn’t tell anybody else to do anything to her either. I swear it.”

“And what good is your word?!” Mahiru spat, “What are you capable of, Fuyuhiko?! What is your sister capable of!?”

“My sister is a crass little bitch most of the time, sure,” Fuyuhiko replied, “But I can’t see her ordering some shit like that.”

“And what about all the times in middle school she threatened to kill me or Sato? Sato told me she overheard Natsumi talking about staging an accident for me to get a spot on the main course open. How do I know she’s all talk?”

Fuyuhiko just blanched, “I… I don’t know anything about that, honest.”

“I believe him,” Peko said quickly, “He is not the type to lie, that I know.”

Fuyuhiko shot her a silencing look, “Stay the fuck outta this, Peko. We will have a conversation later.”

Peko felt a shudder pass through her body, but she sat back down at his gaze.

“The girl,” Fuyuhiko continued, turning back to Mahiru, “How badly is she hurt?”

“She’s conscious, at least,” Mahiru replied, “But she’ll be lucky if she keeps all of the use of that arm, and the doctors say the scar will be there forever.”

“I-if it m-might help, I c-c-could--” Mikan started.

“Not the time,” Akane cut her off, placing a firm hand on the nurse’s shoulder.

“Mahiru, on my life and honour,” Fuyuhiko said, “I don’t know anything. I guess I can’t speak for Natsumi, but if you want payback, I can’t help you.”

“Payback?! What, like blood for blood?! That’s your sick code, not mine. I want a confession, and I want justice.”

Peko prayed that Mahiru couldn’t see the sweat beginning to dot her forehead.

“The attacker,” Nekomaru tried, “Did your friend see much of them? Anything the police could use?”

Mahiru shook her head, “She said that she could tell it was a girl, about the same height as her. They were wearing all black, but she saw red eyes from underneath a ski mask.”

Fuyuhiko’s shoulders dropped. He knew. That was all he needed.

“I’m going down to the reserve course,” Mahiru turned on her heel, “To have a similar conversation with your bitch sister. Unless you intend to stop me, that is.”

Fuyuhiko just shook his head at her challenge, “I won’t stop you.”

Mahiru stormed back out of the room, leaving the rest of her class in an uncomfortable silence. Cinderella pawed nervously at Gundham’s pant leg, causing him to bend down and pat her head softly.

Fuyuhiko slowly turned to Peko, “...outside. NOW.”

Peko just nodded. The pair ignored an inquisitive glance from Ibuki as they stood and left the room together as well. As soon as Peko closed the door behind her, Fuyuhiko started in on her.

“So were you intending in filling me in about this, or what?”

Peko bowed her head in shame, “I did not deem it necessary for you to know. I apologize.”

The boy’s fist slammed into the wall behind him, “DAMMIT, Peko. So what, Natsumi asks you to attack a random schoolgirl that pissed her off, and you just DO IT!?”

“The order did not come from Natsumi, she knows nothing as well. The oyabun was the one who told me to… send a message using Sato as an example.”

Fuyuhiko’s eyes went wide, “Don’t bullshit me.”

“I am not.”

A few beats of silence were deafening to Peko as Fuyuhiko mulled over the information.

“...and you made absolutely sure she wouldn’t be able to recognize you?”

“Positive.”

“Shit,” the yakuza boy muttered, “My dad’s put us up shit creek then. Sato can never meet you in person, alright? I’m not chancing anything.”

“Of course,” Peko bowed, “And… I am sorry, young master, for not letting you know.”

“Yeah, yeah,” he rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Just don’t let it happen again. Tell me if you’re gonna pull some shit like this again, alright?”

“Alright.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime hadn’t been sure where this day would have led him, but if someone had told him that at some point he would be holding back a photographer who was practically frothing at the mouth from attacking a young yakuza heiress, he probably would have called them crazy.

Here, however, he was.

“Pull yourself together, Koizumi!” he shouted desperately as the photographer tried to wrench herself from his grip, “What’s gotten into you!?”

“WHO DID IT!?” Mahiru demanded, staring daggers at Natsumi, who was trying to maintain a superior demeanor and only half succeeding, “WHO WAS IT!?”

“The fuck are you talking about?!” Natsumi asked, taking a step back.

“WHO ATTACKED SATO?! WHO DID YOU ORDER!?”

“Attacked?!” Hajime asked, “Sato got attacked?! Is she alright!?”

Hajime grunted as he was thrown against the wall by the photographer’s writhing, loosening his grip enough for her to throw him off.

“Sato is in the goddamn hospital because of you, I know it!” Mahiru grabbed Natsumi’s tie and pulled the girl in, “What have you done, Natsumi!? WHO DID YOU SEND!?”

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about!” Natsumi insisted, shoving Mahiru back, “Now get your hands off me, or I swear I’ll make you regret it, bitch!”

“In no way is this the time, Natsumi,” Hajime forced his way defensibly between the two, back to Natsumi as he squared up against the photographer.

“Get out of my way,” she seethed.

“Not gonna happen. Look, I have no idea what the hell is going on here, and clearly neither does Natsumi. Just calm down and explain at least what you’re accusing her of, alright? You said Sato was in the hospital?”

“She was attacked! This morning, she got woken up by someone breaking into her room through the damn window, and they came at her with a sword! Took a pound off her arm, then bolted! She had to call the ambulance herself with her good arm!”

Hajime froze. Behind him, Natsumi let out a small gasp.

“And you think Natsumi was behind that?” he asked.

“WHO ELSE WOULD IT BE?” Mahiru cried, “You’ve been hanging out with her, you’ve heard the crap she spills whenever she doesn’t like somebody! She’s threatened to kill me more times than I can count, and yesterday, Sato tried to defend me! This is retaliation!”

“I don’t know shit about what happened to Sato,” Natsumi said through gritted teeth, “Just back off, bitch.”

“Or what? Am I gonna wake up to an assassin too?”

“BOTH OF YOU, SHUT UP!” Hajime screamed, garnering their attention, “If anything, what happened to Sato shows that violence isn’t gonna get anybody anywhere here. Koizumi, if you have some evidence beyond presumption that Natsumi was behind it, then I would like to hear it. Otherwise, we should just let the police do their job!”

Mahiru paused, studying him, “Who are you, anyway? Some delinquent trying to get in with the yakuza?”

Hajime’s eyes narrowed, “Don’t act superior with me. I’m just a reserve course student that is apparently much better at dealing with Natsumi than you are.”

“He’s just a friend,” Natsumi added, surprising Hajime with her word choice, “More of one than anybody else is, anyway.”

“MAHIRU, GET BACK!”

The three turned in surprise to find a familiar green-haired girl, bandages around a limp arm, running towards them with fire in her eyes.

“SATO!?” Mahiru exclaimed, “What are you doing here?”

Sato ran up and stood in front of Mahiru, eyeing Hajime and Natsumi evilly, “They let me outta bed once they got it cleaned and the bleeding stopped. Then I rushed over here. Let me handle these two.”

“B-but your arm!”

“My arm is nothing,” Sato shook her head, “I can take this and more if it means protecting you, Mahiru. I’m not gonna let them hurt you like this.”

“Oh, for the last time,” Natsumi rolled her eyes, “I had nothing to do with what happened to you!”

“Fuck you and your empty words, yakuza cunt,” Sato’s words were full of venom, “I should kill you right here.”

“Enough!” Hajime yelled, stepping up to meet Sato’s gaze and shield Natsumi with his body, “Sato, you of all of us should know that too much blood has already been spilled because of this bullshit. Can we please just---ungh!”

Hajime felt the dull impact of Sato’s fist taking him in the jaw. He staggered backwards a few steps before he felt her knee drive upwards into his stomach, rocketing the air out of his lungs and sending him sprawling on the floor.

“HAJIME!” Natsumi dropped down quickly, laying a hand on his shoulder before turning up to meet Sato’s glare, “You really fucked up this time, whore.”

“You little-!”

Mahiru grabbed Sato by the arms and shouted, “Please, Sato, don’t make this any worse than it already is! Come on, let’s just go, we don’t need this right now! You need to get back to the hospital!”

Sato hesitated before turning one last time to Hajime and Natsumi, “You two need to learn your place. This is the reserve course, that means there’s nothing special about you and there never will be. I will not let anyone lay a hand on Mahiru, no matter what, understand? No matter what.”

With clenched eyes, Hajime heard Sato stalk off, with Mahiru’s footsteps following closely behind. 

“You good?” Natsumi asked, voice softer, “That bitch didn’t break anything, did she?”

“No, I don’t think so,” he wheezed, “Just give me a second to catch my breath.”

“Okay…”

Slowly, Hajime recovered enough to sit up and open his eyes, meeting an incredibly bizarre sight that took his breath away yet again.

“Natsumi… are you… crying?”

“No, of course not,” Natsumi lowered her head to hide the thin streams leaking from her eyes, “Why would I be crying? Nothing that bitch says means anything to me. Nothing, got it?”

“Natsumi…” Hajime rested a hand on her quaking shoulder, “I’m the only one here, and if you’re worried about looking weak, remember that I just got beat up by a high school girl. You can be honest.”

Natsumi’s olive eyes snapped up to meet his own for a brief second, before the blonde girl dove forward and pressed her head into his chest.

“She doesn’t know anything…” the girl sobbed, “I have talent. I know it. I’m gonna be just like my big brother. I’m not gonna let him down, I can’t. Sato doesn’t know anything…”

Hajime uncertainty placed his arms around the girl’s back in an uncomfortable hug, as he wasn’t quite sure what to do here.

“Yeah, she’s just an idiot,” he reassured, “Don’t let her get to you.”

“I wanna make him proud… I have to…”

“Make who proud?”

“My big brother!” Natsumi’s eyes whipped upwards, “Fuyuhiko is so amazing at everything he does! He deserves the title of Ultimate! I wanna make him proud of me, I have to! I have to be a sister that he can be proud of having, or else…”

The girl trailed off, sniffling.

“Natsumi…” Hajime sighed, “Why would he not be proud of you regardless? Has he said that you need a talent to please him or something?”

“Of course not!” Natsumi’s voice took on a tone of indignance, “He would never!”

“Then what gives?”

“I… I…”

Natsumi looked downcast, “I just want to be beside him, in everything that he does… if I don’t have a talent, then how am I gonna keep up?”

Hajime froze, the words of his grandmother flashing into his mind once again. In this world, you either have a talent or you’re nothing.

“Natsumi, has your brother ever given you reason to believe he doesn’t care about you?”

“No…”

“And has he ever said explicitly that his talent was important to him?”

“Well, no…”

“Then I don’t think you have to worry about being left behind by him.”

“Why not?” Natsumi’s tears began to dry up as she looked at Hajime.

“Because,” he replied, smiling warmly at her, “He would never leave you behind on purpose. So if neither of you want to be separated, then there’s nothing to worry about, if you’re always checking to make sure you’re beside each other.”

Natsumi was silent for a moment, staring up at the boy.

“I… never looked at it that way…”

Hajime chuckled, “I figured. You can be a little headstrong, you know.”

Natsumi giggled as she dried her cheeks with her sleeve, “Maybe. Thank you.”

“No problem,” Hajime said as he got up, helping Natsumi to her feet as well, “Now, be honest with me. There are no prying eyes or ears, and I swear I won’t tell anybody. Did you actually do anything to Sato?”

“No, I didn’t,” she replied, “I can’t say I’m exactly angry at whoever did, but it wasn’t me.”

Hajime nodded, “I believe you, then. Now come on, we’ve got a grand tour to finish. The music room is just through here.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Out of curiosity, do Sato fans even exist? Like, I know almost every character in DR has some kind of fan following, with only a few exceptions, but is Sato as universally hated as Ruruka?
> 
> Drop me a comment if you feel like it, I welcome speculation and predictions and stuff. Also, it helps me to know if there are actually other human beings out there who won't burn me at the stake for straying from the gospel of Kuzupeko for a fic.


	5. Tension

“Natsumi!” Fuyuhiko waved to his sister as they approached the reserve course building. Peko could vaguely see the young mistress bid farewell to a brown-haired boy whose face she couldn’t make out before running over to greet them.

“Hey, guys,” Natsumi said when she made it to the two ultimates, “You would not believe the day I’ve had.”

“I actually might,” Fuyuhiko said, “Mahiru came by and gave you shit, right?”

Natsumi blinked, “Yeah, did she bitch to you, too? Apparently something happened with Sato.”

Fuyuhiko turned to Peko, “You wanna explain it, or should I?”

Peko sighed, “Yesterday, once your father heard about Sato’s attempt at violence towards you, he ordered me to make an example out of her. This morning, I went to her address and attacked her under disguise. I scarred her shoulder badly before leaving. Mahiru, being a friend of Sato’s, naturally heard about the incident, and you know the rest.”

“Yeesh, that was you? I mean, I can’t say I’m too mad at you for roughing that bitch up, but she did try to make another go for me today because of it.”

Fuyuhiko stopped, “Wait, Sato was here today? I thought she was in the hospital!”

“She probably should have been, by the look of her. Mouthed off to me about Mahiru or whatever, nothing you need to worry about, but then she beat the shit outta Hajime once he tried to defend me.”

Peko raised an eyebrow, “Your friend was beaten by a wounded girl?”

“Eh,” Natsumi shrugged, “I don’t think he was expecting her to actually attack him, he was just standing in front of me to keep me safe. Besides, her shot was pretty fuckin’ cheap.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, “In that case, I’ll have to thank the guy when I see him next. You’re good, right Natsumi?”

The yakuza girl nodded, “Yeah, I’m alright, thanks.”

“That is good to hear,” Peko smiled, “Although, if it’s not too much trouble, young mistress, I have a favour I would like to ask of you.”

“What’s up, Peko?”

“Kindly do not tell your father that Sato attempted to attack you again. I cannot exactly explain why, but if it’s all the same, I would prefer it if he did not know.”

Natsumi eyed Peko for a second before shrugging, “Sure, no skin off my back, I guess.”

“Thank you.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime sighed as he fished around in his pocket for his apartment key. His bookbag was slung over his shoulder haphazardly, and his uniform as still desheveled from the day’s violence. HE must look a mess.

“What a day,” he mumbled as he clicked open the door, “And I’ve still got a shift at the factory in two hours… sheesh, I can’t catch a break, can I?”

As he stepped through the doorway, his foot kicked a letter on the floor, having been slipped through the mail slot on his door. He cocked his head as he picked itup and examined it. There was no return address, no stamp, no writing anywhere on the envelope itself.

He shook his head, set it down on the kitchen table, and put his book bag down on the couch. He cracked open the fridge to grab a can of orange juice, cracking it open and taking a deep, refreshing sip before grabbing his letter opener from his desk.

“Please don’t be bills,” he repeated in his mind as he tore the envelope open, “Please don’t be bills please don’t be bills please don’t be bills please don’t-”

It wasn’t bills. The envelope contained a single page letter typed in Times New Roman, with the insignia for Hope’s Peak stamped in the corner.

\---

Mr. Hajime Hinata,

Our sincerest gratitude for your acceptance of the project, as well as signing the NDA accompanied with the role you are to play. We trust you have read over the document, so the details need not be repeated here. The project will begin in three weeks, on the sixteenth, at which point you are to report to room 14 on the main campus no later than 6 am. The security will be instructed in advance to allow you in. 

Until that time, you will continue to attend your reserve course classes and keep up appearances elsewhere as a formality, we are sure you understand. This is with the exception of tomorrow morning. At 8 am, you should be expecting a house call from the 77th class’s Ultimate Nurse, Mikan Tsumiki. She will perform a physical on you and give her report to us. Please bear in mind that the girl is not aware of the details of the project, and thus the details of the NDA you signed will stand for this appointment. As far as she is aware, this is a normal house call to a favoured student who turned up ill, that is all. 

Please do not hesitate to contact me directly about any questions or concerns you may have about the project. In my own personal opinion, I believe that you do not have to, and should not be, undergoing this project, given the cost it comes at. There is more in this world than talent, and I truly hope you see that before it is too late. 

If you want to back out of the project at any point, let me know in an email before the sixteenth and I will take care of all the paperwork with the board of directors. The NDA will still be in effect, but no other strings will be attached.

Sincerely,  
Jin Kirigiri  
Hope’s Peak Academy Headmaster

\---

Hajime scrunched up his brow at the message.

“The headmaster doesn’t want me to go through with it?” he wondered, “Here I was thinking he was the head honcho of this whole ordeal. I guess the board of directors is moreso behind it.”

He sighed and set the note aside, going in search of something to eat in his fridge. One whiff of the leftover kimbap told him that it was sour, and he slid it into the compost bin. His fridge was otherwise sparse, featuring only a half-filled jar of pickles, a brick of cheese wrapped in tinfoil, a single bunch of broccoli, and an unopened jar of grape jelly, not counting the several dozen cans of orange juice that took up the entire door.

“Screw it, I’ll just get takeout today,” he muttered, “Not the best thing to eat the night before a physical, but oh well.”

He cast one final glance towards the letter on the table before tossing it out of sight into a drawer.

“‘Talent isn’t everything’, huh,” he chuckled sarcastically as he flipped through the phone book, “Big talk coming from the headmaster of the academy for it.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“H-hello… M-my name is M-M-Mikan T-Tsumiki… it’s nice to… I-I mean… I’m sorry!!”

Hajime frowned, “What are you apologizing for?”

“I-I mean… I’m doing a p-physical on you… and that means y-you have to look at m-my ugly face…” the nurse was trembling as she kept her eyes pointed at the floor.

Hajime just rolled his eyes. Between Koizumi and this girl, the main course was certainly not slouching for personality, he could tell that much. After his shift at the factory the previous evening, and the pizza he had ordered for dinner not exactly sitting well, he in no way had slept well enough to be dealing with this nonsense at 8 am.

“Cut it out, will you?” he shook his head, “It’s fine. Look, if you don’t want me looking at you for any longer than I have to, then just get the physical over with quickly, alright? I’ve got class to get to.”

“O-oh, um… of course…”

Mikan hesitantly shuffled through her bag to retrieve a blood pressure reader. Hajime held out his arm as the nurse fastened it around his bicep.

“Y-you go to Hope’s Peak too, r-right?” she asked.

“Yeah, I’m in the reserve course. That’s why you don’t know me.”

“O-oh, of course… y-you must be pretty important if t-the academy sent m-me to check up on y-you…”

Hajime chuckled darkly as the machine beeped, reading 120/80, “You could say that.”

Mikan nodded and pressed a stethoscope into his chest, “B-breathe in and hold.”

Hajime complied.

“N-now out.”

Hajime wasn’t quite sure what to make of the nurse’s expression as her hand seemed to linger over his chest for a few seconds after he had finished breathing out, but he just shook his head.

“Y-your breathing and blood pressure are all good, and your heart rate seems fine t-too…” she said, “D-do you have any illnesses or allergies?”

“Not really.”

Mikan nodded, “And a-any medications?”

Hajime shook his head.

The nurse finished writing on her clipboard before slotting it back into her bag, “I-in that case, y-you seem fine… I’ll let the board know y-you’re okay to come back to s-school tomorrow…”

Hajime raised an eyebrow at her, “Tomorrow? I was just going to go back in for the rest of the day today.”

Mikan’s eyes widened, “O-oh, I’m sorry, I guess that w-works too… I just a-assumed that the reserve c-course would be canceled today because of w-what was out f-front… I’m s-sorry…”

Before Hajime could question what she was talking about, the nurse dashed out the front door of his apartment like an antelope startled by a gunshot.

“What an odd girl,” he muttered, “I guess that’s ultimates for you. Those talents are bound to entail a few quirks.

Hajime just shrugged and threw on his reserve course uniform quickly. He would be arriving an hour or so later than usual, but nobody would miss his presence there, really.

“Actually,” he mentally corrected himself as he tried to tame his hair in vain, “Natsumi might be wondering where I am. I might have to get used to having her around.”

Eventually, he gave up on his hair. He grabbed his book bag from the couch where he had left it the night before (he would keep up appearances in class, sure, but he’d be damned if he was going to do homework for courses he wasn’t going to be there to finish) and headed out the door.

The streets had a strange energy to them as Hajime set out on his usual ten-minute walk to school. People walked more quickly past him than they usually did. He caught a few curious glances from people going the opposite way as him, but he didn’t think much of it.

“I didn’t have time to pack a lunch…” he thought as he walked, “Wonder if I’ll be able to beat the rush to the vending machines…”

This thought, however, as well as all thoughts of hunger, fatigue, school, and just about anything else were silenced when he rounded the corner leading onto Hope’s Peak property and caught view of the reserve course campus.

In retrospect, he wondered why he hadn’t heard the police sirens earlier.

~~~~~~~~

Fuyuhiko looked out the window idly, pointedly ignoring the debate that Kazuichi and Gundham were getting into behind him.

“Are you alright, Fuyuhiko?” Peko asked, “You look troubled.”

The yakuza boy shrugged, “It’s nothin’. Just thinking about how the class seems so empty right now.”

“I agree,” the plump form of Ryota looked up from his laptop to glance around, “We’re missing a good number of the girls. Mahiru said that she, Hiyoko, and Ibuki were going down to the reserve course to see that Sato girl, and Mikan had official business to attend to.”

“I just hope Yukizome doesn’t go all bloodhound on ‘em again,” Kazuichi whined, “If she does, she’ll drag us right along with her, and my legs barely worked after the first time.”

“Weakling,” Gundham remarked under his breath.

“What did you say to me?!” Kazuichi shook his fist at the breeder accusatorily.

“He called you a weakling, Kazuichi!” Sonia called from across the room, “Do not be angry at him for stating a fact, however upsetting to you that fact may be!”

“M-Miss Sonia?!” Kazuichi blanched at the princess smiled at Gundham, “H-how could you betray me like this?”

“She had literally never been on your side, dude,” Akane ruffled the mechanic’s beanie, “About, like, anything.”

Kazuichi just whimpered and sat back down.

“Yo, what’s the shit going on down there?” Nekomaru asked, pointing a meaty finger out the window.

Peko glanced down at the schoolyard.

“It seems like police are at the reserve course…” she muttered, “And the students are all outside, out of class.”

“Do you think a demon portal opened within their campus?” Gundham asked, tone serious.

“Probably not,” Teruteru shook his head, “Maybe some kids got into a fight or something?”

Fuyuhiko’s pocket buzzed. He took out his phone and glanced at the screen.

“It’s Mahiru,” he said, “She said she was going down there, maybe she knows what’s up.”

He tapped on the accept call button, and held it up to his ear.

“Hey, Mahiru, what’s going on?”

A few beats of silence passed, during which Fuyuhiko’s eyes widened.

“I’m going to need you to say that again. Real fucking slowly.”

Silence again. Fuyuhiko’s arm began to shake as he held the phone. Peko glanced at him with concern.

“Don’t you go fucking anywhere,” his voice was dark, “I’m on my way.”

The yakuza boy quickly hung up the phone, and turned to Peko.

“We gotta go. Right the fuck now.”

The swordswoman nodded and followed him at a brisk pace out of the classroom, leaving the rest of their inquisitive classmates behind.

“What is going on? What did Mahiru say?” she asked him as they ran.

“Natsumi,” came his gruff reply.

Peko’s eyes widened, “Oh no, is she alright?”

Fuyuhiko slammed open the front door leading outside with his shoulder violently. They two were running at top speed now, making a beeline towards the now-forming police line in front of the reserve campus.

“No,” Fuyuhiko’s shaking voice was barely audible over the rushing wind, “No, she isn’t.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was a bit all over the place, but it kinda had to be for everything to happen that needed to happen this chapter.
> 
> Also yeah, if you thought Natsumi was gonna get spared here just because we're diverging from canon, you were wrong.


	6. Useless

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu was not an easily shaken man.

Ever since he had been old enough to hold his head up in his booster seat, he had been sitting in on high-stakes yakuza deals. He’d seen a man die for the first time when he was eight, sliding slowly to the floor, red splattered on the wall behind him, as Fuyuhiko’s hand held the smoking gun that his father had handed him. His hand hadn’t even trembled. It was like he had just squashed a spider.

Fuyuhiko had been kidnapped over a dozen times, withstood torture that would drive some weaker people mad. Once he came of age, he had ordered hundreds of stings on enemy yakuza clan members and nosy policemen. He had dealt death with as emotionless an expression and as steady a hand as a postman handing out flyers.

So why couldn’t he stop shaking?

Beside him in the waiting room of the mortuary, Peko laid a steadying hand on his bouncing knee. His hands were stuffed into his pockets to hide the fact that they were trembling. He could taste blood from all the times he had bitten his tongue to keep from hollering every curse in the world, or even to just keep his mind in the present.

Was he angry? Scared? Sad? He wasn’t quite sure there was an emotion for what he was feeling. It was just the uncertainty, both of the situation and of his own emotions, that was truly eating him up inside. 

“Young master,” Peko’s voice broke through the cloud of despair permeating his every level of being, “You are drawing too much attention.”

Fuyuhiko froze, realizing for the first time that he hed been rocking back and forth violently on the squeaky chair, and most of the other people in the waiting room were looking at the two high schoolers strangely.

“Peko…” he muttered, “How long have we been waitin’?”

The swordswoman glanced up at the wall clock, “We sat down twenty-one minutes ago.”

“Twenty-one minutes…” he shook his head, “So where the FUCK are mom and dad?”

“I do not know, but I’m sure they’ll be here soon.”

“They damn well better be.”

The pair descended into silence again. Fuyuhiko, not wanting to be sucked back into the void of horror that was ever so inviting in the back of his mind once again, looked around for anything to distract him. A TV, a magazine, anything. His eyes eventually settled on Peko’s face, her expression stiff as she stared intently at the floor.

Having grown up together, Fuyuhiko probably knew Peko better than anybody. There hadn’t been a day in their lives when they hadn’t been side by side most of the day, and as such, Fuyuhiko had gotten good at reading the girl’s usually stoic expressions. He could see that her jaw was clenched slightly. Her eyes were narrowed, her chin low, and her knuckles were white as she held them in her lap. Any passers-by would assume her bored, zoning out and waiting for the seconds to tick by. Fuyuhiko knew better. 

Peko was absolutely terrified.

“Peko?” he asked, hand inching towards hers but lacking the courage to hold it.

“What is it?”

“...what if it’s her?”

The swordswoman swallowed, “...I don’t know.”

“What the fuck do you mean, you don’t know?”

Before Peko could answer, a man in a brown coat and blue gloves stepped out into the waiting room.

“Kuzuryu?” he asked, looking at the yakuza boy.

Fuyuhiko looked up. The man’s eyes were sunken and lifeless. Came with the line of work, he supposed.

“We’re ready for you now,” the man nodded, motioning for Fuyuhiko to follow. Both he and Peko stood.

“Not you,” Fuyuhiko told her.

Something flashed in Peko’s eyes, but she didn’t say anything as she looked at him questioningly.

“I just…” he muttered, “...you don’t gotta see it.”

The swordswoman hesitated before nodding, sitting back down.

“Is she family as well?” the mortician asked as he led Fuyuhiko down the hallway.

“Yeah,” he responded, “Yeah, she is.”

The man pushed open a heavy black door, sending a gust of chilly air against the young yakuza as they stepped into the morgue. Rusty, black metal compartments lined the far wall, illuminated by a single hanging lightbulb chained to the ceiling. The room was grungy, like it didn’t see much upkeep. Fuyuhiko had been expecting hospital levels of cleanliness, but he supposed dead people didn’t need to worry too hard about infections.

The mortician turned a key in one of the slots, pulling it out of the wall to reveal an opaque black tarp draped over a conspicuous mound.

“The… presumed identity is Natsumi Kuzuryu, yes?” the mortician asked.

Fuyuhiko just nodded as his eyes desperately tried to gauge the mound that he could see.

“It’s too tall to be Natsumi,” he desperately thought, “The head area is too big, she doesn’t look anything like this. No, they’re wrong, it’s somebody else. Some random girl they mistook. It’s their fault, Natsumi is fine. She’s fine.”

“Would you like to lift the tarp, or should I?” the man asked.

“I will,” his voice shook much more than he thought it would, or even than he ever remembered it shaking in the past. His knuckles were red as he clutched the corner of the plastic sheet, from the cold room or from nervous tension, he wasn’t sure.

Fuyuhiko could feel sweat dotting his forehead as he looked back at the mortician, the only human contact in sight, for some kind of stability. The man nodded at him respectfully. Fuyuhiko turned back to the mound under the tarp and, with a cry of exertion that he hadn’t expected to come from his mouth, he whipped the tarp off of the body beneath.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime felt sick. He only vaguely remembered the policeman’s face he had spoken to. He didn’t remember the sound of the man’s voice as he had explained the situation. He certainly didn’t pay any attention to the reserve course students gossiping in groups around him. He didn’t pay attention to their sneers or their mocking tones, because he knew that if he did, he would cause a scene.

Well, he was already going to cause a scene. He just didn’t want to cause one on the way there.

His eyes were fixed on the flash of bright red hair he had picked out from the crowd. He shouldered his way towards it, ignoring the insults that accompanied every reserve course student his shoulder checked on the way there.

Mahiru must have felt something. The way a deer knows in the back of its mind that a lion was waiting in the bushes. The photographer turned as he approached, locking eyes with him. The girl visibly shrank as she saw the look in his eyes.

“Where.” Hajime said.

Mahiru gulped as two girls on either side of her span around to look at Hajime as well. One of them was short, her blonde hair in pigtails. The other had wild, multicolored hair styled into horns. Neither of them mattered.

“W-where is what?” Mahiru asked shakily.

“You know. Tell me.”

“Who’s this loser, Mahiru?” the short girl asked, voice high-pitched and superior in tone.

“Ibuki doesn’t recognize him,” the horned girl made a show of examining his face by leaning in and inspecting from various angles. Hajime was a second away from throwing her out of his face when Mahiru pulled her back behind her.

“Girls,” the photographer said, eyes never leaving the accusatory gaze of Hajime, “Go back to campus. I’ll meet you back there soon.”

“And leave you alone with this creep?” the short one asked, “Nu-uh.”

Mahiru’s eyes darted to Hajime’s left hand as it balled into a fist out of annoyance. Terror sparked in her olive eyes.

“Please,” who exactly she was begging was unclear, “Just… please.”

With one last glance between Hajime and Mahiru, the horned girl just sighed, “Let’s go, Hiyoko, Mahiru can deal with this.”

The short girl huffed, but followed the horned one a few paces behind, shooting Hajime the evil eye over her shoulder.

“Now, I know what you’re thinking---” Mahiru began.

“You’re goddamn right,” Hajime snapped, barely suppressing the words to not come out as a shout, “Now where is she? Where the fuck has she run off to?”

Mahiru gulped, taking a step back from him instinctively, “W-why do you want to know?”

“You know why.”

“T-the police think it was a pervert! Why do you assume that Sato had anything to do with this?”

Hajime could feel his eye bulge out of his head in rage, “You were there yesterday, Koizumi, just like I was. You heard what she said.”

“W-well yeah, but she wouldn’t--”

“WOULDN’T WHAT?” he shouted, eliciting a small ‘eep’ of distress from the photographer, “SHE WOULDN’T GO THROUGH WITH IT? NATSUMI IS FUCKING DEAD! THAT SOUNDS LIKE PRETTY GOOD FOLLOW-THROUGH TO ME!”

The sounds of the reserve course students gossiping around them were gone as all attention was drawn into the two.

“Please…” Mahiru was choking back tears, “You can’t… don’t hurt her…”

Hajime lunged forwards and grabbed the photographer’s collar, pulling her face close to his own.

“So you do agree with me then,” an adrenaline-fueled chuckle seeped into his voice as mania began to set in, “You think I would kill her? You think I would just MURDER another HUMAN BEING out of petty revenge?”

“Please, you have to understand! Sato couldn’t have---”

“DON’T BULLSHIT ME, KOIZUMI!”

Tears were streaming down the redhead’s face now.

“Don’t hurt her… please… she didn’t mean…”

“But she did.”

Mahiru had no response to that. The girl could only sob as the growing crowd watched Hajime release his hold on her collar.

“Natsumi was my friend,” Hajime’s voice was low, “The only friend I had in this godforsaken money farm of a school. I don’t care what you say. I don’t care what the fucking police say. We both know who did it. Now tell me where she is.”

“I… can’t…”

“You’re innocent so far, Koizumi,” he caught her gaze menacingly, “Don’t ruin that by protecting her. I’m not going to kill her, if that’s what you’re worried about. I would never stoop to that pathetic and despicable a level.”

Mahiru took the words like blows to the stomach as she fell to her knees, trembling as tears splashed against the ground beneath her.

“Well?” Hajime prompted.

“THAT IS QUITE ENOUGH!”

Both students turned to find an orange-haired woman Hajime didn’t recognize storming through the sea of onlookers, a determined look on her face. Behind her, a swath of students in main course uniforms followed, the horned girl and short girl from before being among them.

“Miss… Yukizome?” Mahiru’s voice was weak as the main course students gathered around her. The woman, Yukizome apparently, stormed up to Hajime, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Young man,” she began, angry, “I don’t know who you are or what’s going on here, but I will have you know that my student here just discovered a dead person this morning. Her poor heart doesn’t need any more shock right now.”

The blonde girl, Hiyoko, if Hajime remembered correctly, stuck her tongue out at him from the corner of his eye. Mahiru’s classmates gathered around her, each of them laying a hand on her shoulder or speaking encouraging words in a quiet voice. Hajime recognized Mikan, the nurse from that morning, among them.

Hajime found himself glancing from Mahiru, to Miss Yukizome, to the main course students, and back again. Then, ever so slowly, he felt an unexpected chuckle begin to pump out of his chest.

“What’s so funny?” Yukizome asked as the chuckle turned into a strained laugh.

“This is just… typical!” Hajime wheezed between laughs, “A main course teacher looking down her nose at me, for even daring to have an opinion! Oh, how dare I sully an Ultimate’s ears with my fucking voice, right?”

“What are you talking about?” Yukizome furrowed her brow.

“You gotta calm the shit down, man,” a burly guy asked from the main course crowd, “What the hell was even goin’ on here?”

“Calm down? CALM FUCKING DOWN!?” Hajime was incredulous, “MY FRIEND WAS JUST FUCKING MURDERED! HOW IN THE FUCK AM I SUPPOSED TO BE CALM, ASSHAT?!”

“H-Hajime?” Mikan asked timidly, not daring to meet his eyes, “P-please, just tell us--”

“SHUT YOUR GODDAMN MOUTH, TSUMIKI! SHE KNOWS WHERE SATO IS! SHE’S PROTECTING THE BITCH WHO KILLED NAT--”

Hajime was cut off by the sharp slap of Yukizome’s palm against his cheek. Mikan was positively squealing in terror as she tried to hide behind a dark-haired guy with white skin and a purple scarf.

“Do not speak to one of my students that way,” the teacher’s voice was shaky, “Ever again. Understand me?”

Hajime was laughing his head off now, and he wasn’t sure why. He was certain he must look like a madman to the crowd. Nothing was funny about this, nothing at all. Maybe how unfunny everything was was what was so funny to him. Eventually, the delirium died down along with his laugh, and he felt the first droplets of rain splash against his shoulders.

“You know, Koizumi…” he snarled as he regained his breath, “I never understood why Natsumi hated you so much. Sato, that I understood, but I always just figured her jealousy was blinding her.”

The photographer’s face was meek as she looked up at him.

“Now…” he felt a creepy smile break across his face, “Now I understand. The real reason she couldn’t suffer you for even a second.”

His arms were trembling with barely contained rage as he looked up and cast his gaze over the entire class.

“I hope those pedestals this fucking school puts you people up on are comfortable. You’ve grown so accustomed to looking down on everyone else that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to hope for more. That’s why Natsumi died. She died because she dared to hope for more than what she had. And she was struck dead for it.”

“Rightfully,” a puffy haired boy approached Hajime with a smug look on his face, “Talentless people are just leeches. It’s not your place to feel hope, only to feed off the hope the ultimates provide. What’s the old proverb about the guy who flew too close to the--”

The boy was silenced as Hajime’s fist plowed into the side of his face. Hajime felt the boy’s jaw break beneath his fist. He collapsed to the ground, unconscious as soon as he hit.

Deadly silence filled the school grounds as Hajime met Mahiru’s wide-eyed gaze one last time.

“Fuck you,” he said simply, before turning on his heel and stalking off. The gathered reserve course crowd parted to make a path for him this time. He wasn’t sure why, but some of them were smiling at him. The rain began to pour down upon them all as Hajime walked all the way back out of the gate. Caressing his bruised knuckles the whole way. 

Hajime walked towards his apartment. Not because he had anything to do there, but he just didn’t know where else to go. The droplets of rain pelting against him were the only thing keeping his body from feeling completely numb. 

The streets were empty and deserted, with only the occasional pedestrian running for cover past him or car splashing water up near his feet. Hajime just couldn’t shake a strange ringing in his ears, as if something should have been there but wasn’t. There was just void.

“I have talent. I know it.”

Natsumi’s words as she had cried with him just under a day prior sounded in his mind.

“I wanna make him proud of me, I have to!”

“I’m not gonna let him down, I can’t.”

“I just want to be beside him, in everything that he does…”

“If I don’t have a talent, then how am I gonna keep up?”

Hajime couldn’t tell if the water dripping down his face was rain or tears. Probably both.

“I’m sorry, Natsumi…” he apologized to the empty air, for a sleight that he had no hand in, “I’m sorry you couldn’t get any farther…”

Hajime stopped, slamming his fist into a brick wall in an alleyway off the side of the street.

“I’m sorry that this damn world couldn’t see that you meant something…”

Hajime sighed, noticing blood pooling in the puddle at his feet. Punching brick walls did that, right. Although, it was odd that he didn’t feel much more pain than he did. He examined his hand, searching for a break or cut in the skin, but found nothing.

“What?” he murmured, glancing back down at the blood pooling at his feet.

His eyes widened as they followed the pooling blood trail deeper into the dark alleyway, before finally settling on a crumpled form of a girl, body broken and bleeding, as she lay unconsious on the ground.

~~~~~~~~~~

Peko rubbed circles on Fuyuhiko’s back as the yakuza boy retched over the mortuary’s toilet. His breakfast was already in the bowl, but his body denied logic, as if continued attempts to vomit more might expel the sight of Natsumi’s cold, dead body and lifeless upwards stare from his mind.

“It was Sato,” his voice trembled, both with pain and rage, “I fucking know it.”

Peko just nodded, handing him her handkerchief to wipe his mouth on.

“I’m gonna kill that cunt, I swear it,” he muttered, “She’ll suffer for this.”

“Yes,” Peko nodded, “Yes, she will.”

Fuyuhiko eyed her strangely, “Peko? Are you…”

He trailed off, uncertain how to finish his question. Peko knew what he was seeing in her.

Natsumi had been the closest thing Peko had ever possessed to a sister. She had loved her like family. And now Natsumi was dead. Murdered. 

Murdered by Peko’s failure. By her refusal to kill Sato.

Her weakness.

“Young master…” Peko clenched her arms around her stomach as she bowed, “I am sorry... “

Fuyuhiko cocked his head, “The fuck do you have to be sorry for?”

“It’s my fault… your sister… If I hadn’t…”

“OI!” Fuyuhiko grabbed her by the shoulders, “Stow that shit, Peko! You didn’t kill Sato, fine. You couldn’t have seen this coming. This is on Sato’s head, not yours. We’re gonna make that bitch pay, now. Alright?”

“Ah, there you are, Fuyuhiko,” a new voice came from the entrance to the bathroom.

The two ultimates turned to find the stout form of Masayoshi Fukuryu standing there, backlit by the hallway light. The man’s face was grave and set into stone.

“Dad,” Fuyuhiko’s voice trembled with rage, “It was her.”

The oyabun nodded, motioning for something behind him. Peko’s eyes widened as Fukuda walked in and grabbed Fuyuhiko by the arm.

“Come on, kid, we’re getting in the car,” the former Ultimate Swordsman said.

“Hey, hands off me, old man!” Fuyuhiko cried as Fukuda began to pull, “The fuck’s the hurry?”

“I can’t answer that yet,” Fukuda said simply, dragging Fuyuhiko away. Something broke inside Peko as his arms left her shoulders, and she glanced up just as Fuyuhiko was pulled from the room.

The look that her instructor sent her over his shoulder said everything she needed to know. The door swung shut, and she was alone with the oyabun.

“Master…” she failed to keep her voice from trembling as she bowed to the floor, “This is my fault…”

Peko coughed blood as the man’s meaty fist plowed into her abdomen. She could feel a rib snap as she crumpled to the floor. 

“Yes,” the man replied, “Yes it is. My daughter is dead. I told you she was under your protection, and now she’s dead.”

Peko just nodded dully.

“Follow me, girl,” Masayoshi said as he walked out of the room. Peko’s torso screamed at her in protest as she rose to follow dutifully, but she limped after him. The oyabun’s gait was shockingly calm and controlled as he led her out of the bathroom and out of the mortuary. Peko’s vain hope of seeing Fuyuhiko again was shot when she realized that he had already been driven away. The man grabbed her arm and shoved her down an alleyway nearby.

“Take out your sword,” he said simply once they were out of earshot from the sidewalk. Peko obliged, unsheathing her sword and removing the bamboo cover from it.

“Now put it aside.”

Peko’s eyes widened as she looked up at the oyabun, “B-but master, I--”

Masayoshi’s fist plowed against her skull again, sending her sword scattering out of reach.

“Oh, you’re still gonna die here, bitch,” he said, breath shaky, “But if you think I’m gonna let you die with any kind of honor left, you’re fucking wrong.”

Peko screamed as she felt his boot slam down on her arm, shattering the bone. Tears welled up in her eyes as rain began to fall around them.

“I’m sorry…” she sobbed as her head was pulled up by her hair, “I’m useless…”

“That’s right,” the oyabun allowed his tone to become ore haggard, less controlled, “You were a waste of a fucking investment from the day you were born.”

Peko felt her nose shatter against the brick wall as the man slammed her face into it. Her glasses shattered as well, glass shards cutting her cheeks. The salt from her tears ran over these gashes, stinging.

“You had one job!” the oyabun yelled as he kicked her in the stomach, “Protect my children! That was your only purpose! AND YOU COULDN’T EVEN DO IT RIGHT!”

Peko could no longer speak due to the pain as she felt another rib snap off within her.

“He’s right…” she thought, “I deserve this… I knew I did as soon as I heard about the young mistress…”

Two meaty hands grabbed her leg and snapped it, eliciting a cry of agony as she squirmed. She did not wish to get away, only for the pain to end.

“I’ve wanted to do this for a long time…” Masayoshi whispered in her ear, “I’ve seen the way my son looks at you, you little whore. You audacious bitch.”

Peko felt tears streaming down her face as her hand was crushed under his bootheel.

“Young master…” she thought through the agony, “Please forgive me… I do not deserve to stand at your side, I never did…”

“What are you!?” the man asked as he pressed his foot against her neck, “SAY IT!”

“I-i-..” Peko struggled to get the words out against his boot as he pressed, choking her.

“SAY IT, BITCH! SAY IT AND I KILL YOU!”

Peko tried to say something, but it just came out as a gargle as she felt her windpipe being crushed.

“YOU CAN’T, CAN YOU!? SAY IT! SAY WHAT YOU ARE!”

Masayoshi released her neck only to slug her in the face again. A tear opened in her forehead, sending a cascade of blood down her face.

“I…” she whispered weakly as the man pulled a knife from his coat.

“You’re what? I can’t hear you.”

The knife pressed against her chest, drawing a bead of blood as the sharp tip penetrated her skin.

“I’m…” she said as the light faded from her eyes, “I’m nothing…”

The blade plunged into her chest, and she fell forwards. Masayoshi scoffed as rain began to dilute the pool of blood that seeped out from under her. She couldn’t breathe, she couldn’t think, she couldn’t see, she couldn’t move. The agony was her whole world. The last thing she registered was her young master’s face peering at her, scorn etched across his every feature, before turning and leaving her there. She didn’t cry out for him, she knew he was gone already. Even if he was here, she didn’t deserve to say his name. She didn’t deserve to look at him.

Her consciousness winked out as the rain continued to pour. The knife was left in her chest to make it as slow as it could be. It wasn’t blood loss that whisked her away into blissful slumber, but her own mind failing her and shutting down from the pain.

She was a failure.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Holy mother of fucking shit,” Hajime breathed as he felt at the girl’s neck, “She’s alive.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was a chapter and a half. Double my usual length.
> 
> I should probably add some angst tags, huh?
> 
> I don't usually plan much when I write, I usually just start with an idea and see where the writing takes me, but this was always going to be how Hajime and Peko met. Idk where the idea came from, to be honest, but I knew from the start this was going to happen.
> 
> See y'all next chapter. Let me know what you think.


	7. Fallout

Fuyuhiko’s hand slammed down on his father’s desk, sending the pen jar scattering across the floor.

“I would like you to explain to me, very slowly,” Fuyuhiko was barely maintaining a civil volume, “Where the fuck Peko is, and why her bedroom has been cleaned out.”

Behind him, Fukuda laid a hand on his shoulder, but he shrugged it off violently. His gaze was set and viscious, burning holes into the skull of the rather unaffected Masayoshi Kuzuryu.

“Fuyuhiko, I’m very busy right now,” the oyabun waved his hand, not meeting his son’s gaze, “You know, trying to find which son- or daughter-of-a-bitch killed your sister.”

Masayoshi reached for a mug of steaming coffee, which Fuyuhiko batted to the side in anger. The mug shattered against the wall, brown staining the wallpaper in a steaming splash. 

“Like that’s even a question,” the yakuza boy growled, “I already know who did it. You do too.”

Masayoshi’s gaze darkened as he met his son’s eyes, “Yes, I suppose I do. However, she’s proving pretty difficult to find. I don’t suppose you would know anything?”

Fuyuhiko gulped. In fact, he did have an idea of where Sato might be, but he was hesitant to say it, as it did mean selling somebody out.

“An exchange,” Fuyuhiko said, “My information, for Peko. Where is she? What the fuck is going on about her?”

Masayoshi rolled his eyes, “Still on about that fucking girl? She showed her uselessness when she couldn’t protect your sister, so I got rid of her. Fukuda’s been following you as her replacement until we get a new one in.”

Fuyuhiko went cold.

“Define, ‘got rid of’,” his voice was low.

The oyabun sneered at the look of absolute rage that broke over Fuyuhiko’s face.

“Oh, don’t tell me you got attached to that little bitch,” he said, “She was always just a tool for you, you would do well to remember that. Now she’s useless, and I killed her. You got a problem with that?”

Fuyuhiko’s fist was stopped by Fukuda catching his wrist inches from Masayoshi’s face. The oyabun didn’t even flinch.

“YOU MOTHERFUCKER!” Fuyuhiko’s eyes were like that of a rabid dog. He tried to wrestle Fukuda off of him, but the swordsman pulled him into a hold that he couldn’t break, “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU, OLD MAN! YOU BASTARD!”

“Please, young master,” Fukuda hissed in his ear, “Now is not the time for this!”

“FUCK YOU, FUKUDA! FUCK BOTH OF YOU! TELL ME THE TRUTH! WHERE IS SHE!?”

“I told you the truth,” Masayoshi stood from his chair, smoothing out his suit, “She’s dead, that’s that.”

Fuyuhiko’s mind raced. No. It was impossible. Peko had been there ever since he was born. For her to be gone… he couldn’t even fathom it. It was like trying to imagine what it would be like to not have arms. It just didn’t make sense to his head.

“I gave that worthless bitch what she deserved,” Masayoshi pulled Fuyuhiko’s head upwards by his hair so that their eyes were meeting, “She didn’t protect my daughter. Your sister, Fuyuhiko. She failed in the one thing she was good for.”

“FUCK YOU!” Fuyuhiko screamed back, struggling vainly against Fukuda’s vice-like grip, “PEKO WAS A HUMAN BEING! HOW DARE YOU TREAT HER LIKE NOTHING!?”

Masayoshi chuckled, “Yes, clearly she did start to think of herself as human. After all, I’ve never heard a broken tool scream so loudly when it was getting thrown in the trash before. You were spoiling her.”

Spittle flew from Fuyuhiko’s frothing mouth as he tried to lunge at his father. He wasn’t even going with a plan of attack. Fukuda’s self-defense training went out the window as all that pervaded his carnal mind was bloodlust for the man before him.

Masayoshi slugged his son in the face, sending saliva and blood scattering across the floor, “I’m going to do the fatherly thing here, kid. Make this a fuckin’ teaching moment.”

“ASSHO--UGH!”

Fuyuhiko felt his nose break. He cried out in pain as Fukuda continued to hold him.

“What you’re feeling now,” the oyabun said calmly as he opened a drawer of his desk, “Is what happens when you start to feel for people. When you get close to them. Understand?”

Fuyuhiko’s eyes widened as he watched his father slide on brass knuckles from the open drawer. He didn’t respond.

“Young master,” Fukuda whispered in his ear, “I am truly sorry for this.”

Something snapped as Masayoshi plowed his fist into Fuyuhiko’s stomach.

“You get close, you get hurt. You open up, you let down your defenses, you die. It’s tough shit, but that’s how we live.”

“You’re wrong,” Fuyuhiko spat, a clump of blood splatting on the floor, “Peko protected me. I cared about her, and she cared about me. We trusted each other.”

“And what happened!?” Masayoshi yelled, slamming his other fist into the boy’s stomach, “She got soft! You gave that pathetic bitch a complex, and she fell off the fucking ball!”

“Mother… fucker….” Fuyuhiko got out between coughs and gasps.

“I killed the girl,” the oyabun grabbed his head and forced his eyes upwards, “But she died because you made her weak. That’s what happens when us yakuza get close to anybody. Somebody gets dead. Suck it the fuck up, kid, it’s about time you learned that.”

Masayoshi nodded to Fukuda, who released Fuyuhiko. The young yakuza collapsed to the ground of the office, wheezing and coughing. 

“Now, Fuyuhiko,” he said as he planted his boot atop the boy’s head, “I believe you had information for me about where that girl might be?”

“Fat chance, asshole,” Fuyuhiko wheezed, “I’m not telling you shit.”

The pressure on his head increased as his father ground his face into the floor.

“And why not? You protecting her now, too?”

“Fuck no. I’m not telling you because I’m gonna kill her myself. And then I’m gonna kill you, old man. Natsumi, Peko, I’m gonna avenge them both, you motherfucker.”

Masayoshi looked down at his broken son for a moment, pensive, before smirking and removing his boot from the boy’s head.

“I look forward to you trying,” he chuckled, waving for Fukuda to help Fuyuhiko up. Fuyuhiko gratefully accepted the swordsman’s shoulder as they made their way out of the office.

“Why didn’t you stop him?” Fuyuhiko growled as the pair made their way down the hallway, “If you knew what that bastard was gonna do, why didn’t you stop him?”

“My loyalty is to your father, as head of the Kuzuryu clan,” Fukuda replied sadly, “As much as I may disagree with some of his decisions.”

The swordsman led the yakuza boy to his bedroom, sitting him down on his bed softly.

“Is there anything else you need for now?” he asked.

“No. Just piss off.”

Fukuda nodded, “Just one more thing. Before her room was cleaned out, I snuck this out of it for you.”

Fukuda pressed something into Fuyuhiko’s hand before nodding respectfully and exiting. Fuyuhiko looked down at the small, delicate object.

It was looking at that small, white hair ribbon, alone in in his bedroom, beaten and bruised, that Fuyuhiko finally allowed the tears he had been holding in to fall.

Natsumi was gone.

And now Peko was gone too.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime didn’t know much about medicine, but he knew the unconscious girl had seen better days. Her right arm was broken, her left hand crushed. Both legs seemed to have been snapped, and there was a gnarly tear in her forehead, not to mention the various cuts and bruises that littered the rest of her body.

What really made his heart sink was the knife, buried hilt-deep in her chest. In a panic, he almost pulled it out, before remembering all the movies he had watched claiming that to be the absolute worst option.

“H-hey!” he shouted back towards the street, “Somebody help! There’s a girl here, I think she’s dying!”

Nothing answered him but the rain, still falling around the two. The water was the only thing keeping the girl’s silver hair from becoming stained red in her own blood.

“Son of a bitch,” he whispered, fishing around in his pockets for his mobile, “This can’t be happening. Not today.”

He pulled the phone out of his pocket and frantically clicked the on button, only to be greeted with a BATTERY 0% notice.

“FUCK YOU!” Hajime shouted at nobody in particular as he stuffed the phone back into his pocket. His vision danced over the girl’s body, taking stock of every little injury she posessed.

“She’s going to die…” he thought, “How the fuck did this happen? Who did this?”

There was a side door leading into a dark building in the alleyway. Frantically, he pounded in it.

“ANYBODY!” he yelled, “HELP, PLEASE! CALL AN AMBULANCE, SHE’S DYING!”

Once again, nobody answered.

Nobody cared.

Hajime could feel salty tears trickling from his eyes as he looked again at the girl, hope draining from him.

“I should just go,” he thought, “She’ll die anyway, it’s not like I can help her. I don’t even know her. I can’t do anything, I’m not…”

Sato’s voice from the day prior flashed through his mind.

“This is the reserve course, that means there’s nothing special about you and there never will be! You two need to learn your place!”

Then the puffy-haired guy from that morning.

“Talentless people are just leeches. It’s not your place to feel hope, only to feed off the hope that the ultimates provide.”

Then his grandmother, all those years ago.

“I haven’t actually seen you be good at anything, besides making a nuisance of yourself.”

Then Natsumi, so full of life and hope the day prior.

“If I don’t have a talent, how am I gonna keep up?”

“Go to hell,” he muttered as the rain beat against his shoulders, “All of it. I don’t care if nobody cares. I care.”

Thinking quickly, he reached down and scooped his arm under the girl’s head and back. He pulled her into a bridal carry, ignoring the blood that began seeping into his white shirt.

“I don’t know who you are,” he murmured to her as he took off running out of the alleyway, the girl in his arms, “I don’t know what happened to you, or who did it, or why. But this fucking world has already killed one innocent person today, I’m not gonna let it get you too.”

The streets were empty, due to the rain, and Hajime could feel his blood pumping in his ears. The knowledge that every heartbeat of his own that he felt was one less heartbeat for the girl in his arms drove him to a speed he hadn’t thought he could attain. Blood mixed with rain that mixed with tears as he ran desperately for his apartment complex, where he knew there was a phone.

He burst through the door with his shoulder, ignoring the jolt of pain or the state of his clothes as he darted in. The lobby was as deserted as the road had been. That was okay, it meant nobody would see him carrying a dying girl into his apartment. 

He took three heartbeats to get his keys out of his pocket, and another two to get his door open. Too long. Clearing his dining table to set the girl down on took seven. Far too long. It took eight heartbeats to reach the ancient landline phone on his wall. He hadn’t checked the girl’s pulse since he found her. She might be dead already. He dialled 911 anyway.

“Hello, 911,” a woman’s voice picked up, “Do you require police, medical, or fire services?”

“Medical,” he replied, “Medical, for the love of god.”

“Understood, redirecting you now.”

Three heartbeats.

“911 medical,” a man now, “What’s your emergency?”

“A girl had been attacked!” Hajime yelled, “Or something, I’m not sure. I found her dying in an alleyway, she… she’s in bad shape. I don’t know what to do!”

“Sir, calm down. Where are you right now?”

“I took her to my apartment because my mobile was dead. I’m in room 3 of the complex in 352 Misakkihommachi, Nagahama-shi. Please, I don’t know how long she has!”

“You’re a good distance from the nearest ambulance outlet, I’m going to send a nearby specialist to your location instead, okay?”

“Whatever! I don’t care what you do, just do it fast!”

“Sir, please I need you to calm down and tell me everything. This girl, how injured is she?”

“She… she looks like she’s been attacked. Her right arm, left hand, and both legs are brokan at least, I can’t tell if anything else is broken. There’s a knife in her torso, I made sure not to move it or touch it. I got her here as fast as I could, she was still alive when I checked her ulse about five minutes ago!”

“Understood, the specialist is on their way to your location. Stay calm, and make sure the girl is breathing. Do you know CPR?”

“Y-yeah, I had to learn it for a job…”

“Good. If she stops breathing, you’ll have to do it until the expert arrives. Just sit tight, alright? Help is on the way.”

“Thank you,” Hajime replied, and the person on the line hung up.

Frantically, Hajime checked for a pulse and breathing. The pulse was so slow that he almost thought it wouldn’t be there, but her heart was still beating. Now that he was out of the rain, he could hear the girl’s raspy breaths, meaning that she was indeed breathing.  
“Please get here soon,” he murmured, running to the window to look for anyone coming, “Please.”

After an agonizing three or four minutes, a taxi pulled up in front of his apartment complex with a screeching halt. Through the rain, Hajime couldn’t make out the person who dashed out of it and up into his complex, but he didn’t have to wait long to find out who had been sent.

“Oh, you have got to be shitting me,” he exclaimed, incredulous as the terrified face of Mikan Tsumiki once again appeared at his door.

“Y-you…” the girl whimpered, clearly remembering his outburst at her back at Hope’s Peak, “I-I’m sorry…”

“Clam it, Tsumiki, we don’t have time,” Hajime grabbed the nurse by the shoulder and pulled her inside, “She’s on my dining table.”

Mikan nodded, clutching a first aid bag half her own size and running to the dining room. Once at the threshold, she hesitated.

“No…” she whispered, “It c-couldn’t be… P-Peko?”

“You know this girl?” Hajime asked.

Mikan nodded, “S-she’s in my c-class…”

Hajime chose not to process that information for the time being, “Well then, you better save her then.”

Mikan nodded quickly and whipped open her bag. Hajime had to admit, she did make it look pretty easy. The girl, Peko, apparently, was bandaged to hell and back in a manner of seconds. Hajime figured that if she had been conscious, the resetting of her legs would have caused noise complaints for blocks around, given the sickly crunches that the bones made as the nurse twisted them back into place.

Mikan’s eyes widened as she observed the knife sticking out of Peko’s chest.

“Is she gonna need stitches?” Hajime asked, not really knowing how to be helpful.

Mikan shook her head, “P-probably. It’s a miracle, b-but I don’t think it penetrated any vital organs. Her b-breathing doesn’t seem impaired, a-at least by any injuries to h-her lungs, which is w-what would be the worry with t-that placement… I think h-her breathing issue is because o-of broken ribs…”

Mikan glanced between Hajime and Peko, before whispering, “I-i’m sorry, Peko…”

Before Hajime could ask her what she was apologizing for, the nurse ripped Peko’s shirt open.

The wound was worse than Hajime had thought. The knife seemed to have gotten jostled as he had carried her to his apartment, and the wound was seeping blood and pus. Mikan habded Hajime some gloves, which he put on, and a white mound of some kind of dressed fabric.

“I-I’m going to take the knife out now,” she said, “Y-you keep the wound closed and pressurized while I-I stitch it shut, o-okay?”

Hajime nodded, applying pressure to the area around the knife. Mikan looked one more time to him for confirmation before pulling the knife out.

Good god, it was like pulling a plug out of a barrel. Hajime’s gloves were instantly covered in blood and pus. He shuddered, forcing bile back down his throat, as he held the wound as closed as he could. Mikan grabbed a small rubber tube out of her bag, along with a prethreaded needle, and set to work. In only a few seconds, the would was shut, with the tube having been sewn into the stitching.

“It’s to help d-drain the fluid,” Mikan said when she noticed Hajime’s expression. He nodded.

“What else can I do?” he asked as she began to stitch up the tear in Peko’s forehead.

“W-what blood type are you?” the nurse asked, “I-if I remember correctly, P-Peko is O, which means my blood is no good for her, and she needs a lot of it…”

“A, I think. Is that good?”

Mikan blanched, “N-no, you’re no good either. This is bad… I-I can patch her up all d-day, but she’ll die i-if she doesn’t get blood…”

“I’ll get some for her,” Hajime said, standing up and rushing out the door. He pounded on the apartment of his neighbor first.

“FUCK OFF!” came the response.

“GO TO HELL!” Hajime shouted back, pounding some more, “WHAT’S YOUR BLOOD TYPE!?”

A bit of angry shuffling begat the door swinging open, revealing Hajime’s neighbor, Hisoshi, sporting cargo shorts, a wifebeater, and a five o’clock shadow, looking at him angrily.

“The fuck you wanna know my blood type for, freak?” the man asked, eyeing Hajime’s blood-covered body.

“A girl is dying, asshole,” He replied, “She needs type O blood. Neither me nor the nurse can help her, so what’s your blood type?”

Hisoshi rolled his eyes and sighed, “Yeah, I’m type O.”

“Perfect,” Hajime grabbed the man by the scruff of his wifebeater and dragged him into his apartment.

“HEY!” the man cried indignantly, “I don’t recall ever saying that I’d hel--”

Hisoshi cut off when he saw Mikan ready with a syringe and empty blood bag.

“You’re…” Hisoshi’s tone was softer, almost reverent, “M-Mikan Tsumiki, the Ultimate Nurse…”

“You know her?” Hajime asked.

“Of course I know her! She goes to Hope’s Peak, she’s practically a celebrity on the message boards!”

Hajime just rolled his eyes. Of course Hisoshi would be a fanboy type.

“W-well…” Mikan began, ‘I-if you need m-motivation, the girl w-who needs blood is P-Peko Pekoyama…”

Hisoshi’s eyes widened, “The Ultimate Swordswoman is here? Oh god, of course! Take as much as you need!”

Hajime sighed as Mikan began taking blood from the awestruck Hisoshi. He walked back over to Peko’s side, brushing her bloody, wet hair out of her face.

“She looks so…” he thought, “...serene. She’s the Ultimate Swordswoman? Huh. I never expected that title to belong to anybody so…”

Hajime cut himself off before finishing that thought. He did not need to be thinking that right now, it would be of no help to her.

“Is she gonna be alright now?” he asked Mikan once she returned.

“Y-yeah, I think s-so,” the nurse replied as she inserted the needle into the crook of the swordswoman’s arm, “S-she just needs rest… and to not move too much for a while… we should probably get her to the h-hospit---EEEEEK!”

Hajime whipped his head around at Mikan’s scream. Peko’s arm, needle still inside and pumping blood into her veins, had snapped upwards and grabbed Mikan’s shirt. Peko’s eyes were open and wild, her expression grim. Hajime’s prior assessment that she had appeared serene now seemed laughable.

“No…. hospital…” the swordswoman croaked, “Don’t… “

And like a light switch had been flipped, the silver-haired girl was out again. Her grip on Mikan slacked and released, and her eyes shut again.

“W-well,” Mikan was shaking, “I-I guess that’s a g-good sign… but we c-can’t take her to the hospital now…”

“Why can’t we?” Hajime asked.

“Japanese l-law means that if a p-patient is l-lucid and doesn’t want to g-go to the hospital, w-we can’t take them there… but I don’t know where P-Peko lives…”

Hajime eyed the sleeping girl’s face before sighing, “I guess she’ll stay here then. Until she wakes up, at least.”

“Yo, Hinata,” Hisoshi’s tone was far more pleasant (and lucid) than Hajime had ever heard it, “How do you have an in with ultimates like this? You friends with them or something?”

“Hardly,” Hajime snorted, “I go to Hope’s Peak, but I’m a reserve course student. I found Pekoyama here by happenstance, and Tsumiki and I just keep running into each other is all.”

“Lucky,” Hisoshi grumbled.

“I don’t know if I’d say that.”

Mikan turned to Hisoshi, “E-excuse me, but t-thank you for everything… Y-you can go back to your apartment n-now, I’m sorry to d-distrub you…”

Hisoshi shrugged, “Eh, wasn’t doing much anyway. I guess let me know if she needs any more. See you.”

“T-thanks again!”

“Anything for an ultimate.”

And with that, Hisoshi left.

“Man, what a suck-up,” Hajime wanted to comment, but kept silent.

“I-I’ll stay until she wakes up too…” Mikan said, “I-if that’s alright, I mean… I-I don’t want to be a burden… Oh, n-nevermind, I’m always one, I shouldn’t h-have---”

“You can stay, fine,” Hajime waved his hand, “I guess it would be good for her to wake up to someone she knows instead of just me.”

Mikan nodded. A few beats of uncomfortable silence rang out between the two as they both observed the sleeping girl with concern.

“I’m gonna go change,” Hajime sighed, “This shirt is probably past the point of even dry cleaning, I’ll just have to throw it out.”

“Uhm… Hajime?”

Hajime turned and met Mikan’s eyes.

“Y-your friend died today, r-right? A-and with all this… I don’t think it’s h-healthy for---”

“Tsumiki,” Hajime’s tone was warning, “You’re the Ultimate Nurse, not the Ultimate Therapist. I don’t need your counselling, and I’ve got no use for your pity.”

“I-I’m sorry!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Mahiru could feel her hands shaking as she knocked on the door of her backyard shed, and it wasn’t from cold or the rain.

“Come on in,” came the reply. Mahiru slowly pushed open the door.

Sato smiled at her, looking up from the book she had been reading, “Hey.”

“I, uh…” Mahiru stammered, “I brought you some food. Here, it’s a ham sandwich.”

“Oh, thank you, I’ve been starving. I missed breakfast.”

“Because you were busy killing someone,” Mahiru’s mind said, but she herself remained silent.

“How was the fallout at school?” Sato asked, taking a bite of the sandwich, “Everything alright?”

“Uhm… well, the police showed up pretty soon after you ran off, since Ibuki called them… and then…”

Sato’s eyes snapped onto something on Mahiru’s chest.

“Mahiru, what happened to your shirt?” Sato asked, “It’s all wrinkled and ripped. Did something happen?”

Mahiru’s eyes went wide with fear as Sato took a step towards her, “NO! No, nothing at all! Just, uh… must have caught it on something is all…”

Sato narrowed her eyes at the photographer, “You’re a terrible liar, Mahiru. What happened?”

Mahiru gulped, “The… the guy with the spiky hair and I had a conversation…”

Sato’s eyes sparked with anger, “Hajime Hinata? Natsumi’s new boytoy? Of course. He didn’t hurt you, did he?”

“No…”

“Good. I was honestly surprised he wasn’t there with her this morning.”

Mahiru’s eyebrows shot up, “Why? Would you have killed him, too?”

Sato’s expression softened at Mahiru’s accusatory gaze, “Mahiru… why are you looking at me like that? I’m not a murderer.”

“B-but you are! You killed someone, Sato! You murdered Natsumi, and… I helped you cover it up…”

“Hey,” Sato grabbed the photographer by the shoulders, “What I did to Natsumi was in defense of you. You know she would have hurt you if I hadn’t done anything, Mahiru, I wasn’t just gonna stand by and let that happen!”

Mahiru felt tears welling up in her eyes for the umpteenth time that day as she stared uncomprehendingly at her friend.

“So, to answer your question,” Sato sighed, “I only would have hurt him if he had gotten in my way. But if he’s gonna come after you now because of it, then---”

“NO!”

Sato took a reactionary step back at Mahiru’s shout.

“That guy…” her voice was shaking, “Hajime, was it? He was angry, yeah, more angry than I’ve ever seen anybody before. But… he wasn’t trying to hurt me… He knows you did it, and he knows I helped you, so I can hardly blame him for hating me…”

Sato’s eyes widened, “He knows!? How the fuck does he know!? The cops bought the pervert story hook, line, and sinker!”

“How could he not know!? He was there when you threatened Natsumi! Sato… he was her friend! You… no, we... killed his friend. He can hate me all he likes. I… think I actually agree with him on that…”

“But Mahiru--”

“Don’t, Sato. Please, just don’t.”

Sato fell silent for a few moments.

“Mahiru…” she finally said, “We’re… still friends, right?”

Mahiru’s instinctual reaction was to say yes. She and Sato had been stuck together like glue since elementary school. They had been through so much together. They had had each other’s backs since before they could remember. Yes was the immediate, and intrinsic answer.

But Mahiru couldn’t say it.

She wasn’t sure it was true.

“I can’t do this, Sato…” she sobbed, “I can’t keep lying… after what Hajime said today… I can’t do it…”

Sato blinked tears from her eyes, rushing forwards, “Mahiru, no. If you tell anyone, you’ll go to jail! You’ll get expelled from Hope’s Peak!”

“THINK ABOUT YOURSELF FOR ONCE!”

Mahiru screamed as she shoved Sato off of her. The green-haired girl fell back, a look of shock on her face.

“Sato…” Mahiru’s tears splashed against the wooden floor of the shed, “You never think about yourself… you just think about me… why do you toss yourself aside for me like this!? You always have! Tell me why!”

Sato was silent for a moment, before replying softly, “Because… I love you.”

Mahiru took the words like a baseball bat to the skull, but in truth, she had been expecting them.

“I’m sorry, Sato, I’m so sorry…”

The green-haired girl’s eyes widened with what could only be described as terror as Mahiru turned away from her.

“Mahiru, please don’t… don’t go…”

Mahiru shook her head, “I’m going to Hope’s Peak. They have records about every student, even in the reserve course. I’m going to find out where Hajime Hinata lives, and I’m going to tell him everything. He can decide what to tell the police. It’s only fair.”

“Please!” Sato pleaded, “Think about what you’re doing to yourself! To us! You’d be destroying any chance we have of being together!”

“I know, Sato,” Mahiru was trembling as she stepped out into the rain, “But… I won’t lie to you any longer. This entire time, I think a part of me knew you had feelings for me, but I never addressed it because I was afraid to lose you, but…”

Sato fell to her knees, “Please don’t say it… I can’t hear it from you, not now…”

“Sato… you were the greatest friend I could have ever asked for… but that’s the only way I ever saw you.”

Mahiru wasn’t looking at the girl as she spoke, but she could almost hear the shattering of the heart she had broken. The heart she had trusted above all others her entire life.

“Goodbye, Sato,” she wiped the tears from her freckled face, “I suggest you get out of here before I get back. Or the police get here before me.”

When Sato next looked up from her weeping, she was too late to watch Mahiru leave.

She was alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after taking a quick head count, it seems as though there is not a single character in this story at the moment who is having a good time.
> 
> Whoopsie. Oh well. Sorry, kiddos.
> 
> Also yeah, I'm sorry, but I love Mahiru's character too much to keep her as an antagonistic role for too long.


	8. Separation

Hajime changed into a basic green hoodie he owned before returning to Mikan and Peko. The latter was still unconscious, with Mikan preparing some kind of dressing over white bandages.

“I-it’s to help with inflammation,” the nurse explained at his questioning look, “And to d-deal with infection, i-in case any d-dirt got in her cuts…”

Hajime nodded. The alleyway he had found Peko in was hardly clean.

“So she’s the Ultimate Swordswoman, huh?” he asked, surveying the unconscious girl, “I’ll be honest, she doesn’t really look the part.”

Mikan shrugged, “S-she’s really scary, actually… I think she j-just looks nice now because s-she’s asleep… but this is the f-first time I’ve ever seen h-her without her sword…”

Hajime sighed, “Sheesh. What the hell did I do to get so mixed up with you ultimates?”

“W-what do you mean?”

“Well, I’m sure you noticed, but Koizumi and I aren’t exactly on amiable terms at the moment. My only friend in the reserve course was murdered by one of her friends, and now she’s covering for her. Then, I found Pekoyama here dying in an alleyway for some reason, and now both you and her are just in my apartment.”

Mikan froze, “M-Mahiru is c-covering for a murderer? But… t-that doesn’t seem like h-her at all… Are you s-sure there isn’t s-some mistake?”

Hajime shook his head, “No. Both she and I know damn well that Sato did it, what she said this morning proves that alone.”

“T-then why not go to the police?”

“They sold the cops some bullshit about a deranged pervert breaking in. Besides, unless forensics turns anything up, there won’t be any evidence against Sato specifically. Their words against mine, that’s a losing bet. Besides, Koizumi has other friends in the main course, I assume you included, who would back her up. I’m just one of those reserve course idiots, they won’t listen to me.”

Mikan didn’t respond to that. Hajime didn’t really blame her, he wouldn’t know how to respond either. The two sat in relative silence for a while, Mikan occasionally asking Hajime to help her dress Peko’s wounds, but no conversation really sparked again. 

After about an hour, Hajime heard a noise that sounded like an animal growling.

“The hell was that?” he wondered, glancing around, “Is there a dog in here or something?”

Mikan flushed, “I-I’M SORRY!”

“...for what?”

The nurse looked at the floor, “I’m so sorry, I… uh… Well… I didn’t have time to eat breakfast this morning… and with Peko, I didn’t get a chance to eat lunch, so… I’m sorry…”

Hajime blinked, “You haven’t… eaten anything today? Tsumiki, it’s 3 pm.”

“I know… I’m sorry…”

Hajime sighed, “Well, most of my fridge is canned orange juice, which is too acidic to drink without any food in your stomach. Pekoyama will probably be pretty hungry when she wakes up, too, so we can just order in.”

“O-oh! Y-you don’t have to go to all that t-trouble…”

“Nah, it’s fine, this is what you do for guests. Besides, even if it’s dipping a bit into my budget, I should probably make this morning up to you.”

Mikan cocked her head to the side, “What do y-you mean, ‘make up for t-this morning’?”

“Well,” Hajime replied as he grabbed a phone book off the shelf, “I did kinda snap at you, if you remember. It was probably unprovoked, I was… no, I still am pretty pissed off. But you didn’t have anything to do with that, so I shouldn’t have yelled the way I did.”

A positively jubilant look crossed Mikan’s face for an instant, “O-oh! No, that’s f-fine! People yell at m-me all the time… but h-hearing you say it w-wasn’t my fault is… nice…”

Hajime hesitated, eyeing the nurse strangely, “You… are a very odd person, Tsumiki.”

“I-I know… I’m sorry… if you w-want, we can o-order from the H-Hanamura Diner, it’s n-not too far away. Teruteru gave all of us g-girls in the class a d-discount there…”

“Teruteru?”

“Oh, r-right, you don’t k-know him. He’s the Ultimate C-Cook, his family owns that d-diner…”

Hajime shrugged, “Works for me. What do you want?”

“A-a ramen bowl w-with green o-onion and boiled e-egg, if it’s not too m-much trouble…”

Hajime nodded and dialled the number listed. It rang a few times before a young man’s voice picked up.

“Hanamura Diner! We serve whatever you want, and I do mean absolutely whatever! All you gotta do is ask for it…nicely…”

Hajime raised an eyebrow at the inflection, but ignored it, “I’d like a ramen bowl with green onion and boiled egg, as well as a serving of kusamochi, and uh…”

Hajime covered his phone and looked at Mikan, “What does Pekoyama like?”

Mikan just shrugged.

“Let’s just go with some pork soup dumplings, for delivery.”

“Certainly! Where would this delivery be going to?”

“352 Misakkihommachi, Nagahama-shi, apartment 3. Oh, and I’m apparently supposed to tell you that two of those orders are for Mikan Tsumiki and Peko Pekoyama.”

The young man gasped, “OOH! A house-call for those two voluptuous vixens!? I’ll be right over!”

Hajime hung up on him quickly, “Damn, what a pervert.”

Mikan nodded, “Then y-you probably talked to T-Teruteru… He’s l-like that a bit…”

All of five minutes later, the doorbell rang, signalling someone’s arrival.

“No way,” Hajime commented as he went to get the door, “That’s too quick, right?”

Peering through the viewfinder, Hajime did, in fact, see a somewhat portly, small chef bouncing up and down excitedly, with a pompadour bobbing atop his round head. The chef was holding some boxes, presumably containing food, but Hajime noticed he wasn’t alone. In fact, standing beside him and looking very uncomfortable was…

“You have got to be kidding me,” Hajime said dryly as he opened the door, staring coldly at the girl outside.

Mahiru was silent. She just gulped and looked at him anxiously.

“How the hell do you even know where I live?” he asked.

“I… looked you up at Hope’s Peak… I think we need to talk.”

Teruteru glanced from Hajime to Mahiru, “Oh, you’re that guy from this morning… I feel like a bit of a third wheel here…”

Both Hajime and Mahiru wheeled on the chef.

“I assure you, you aren’t,” Hajime said gruffly as he dug his wallet out of his pocket, “You, I actually expected, since I ordered food. She, on the other hand, I don’t recall inviting. Or ever wanting to invite, for that matter.”

Teruteru shrugged, “Well, from the way you two were arguing, I just figured you two got into a messy breakup or something…”

“T-That’s not it at all!” Mahiru exclaimed while Hajime just rolled his eyes, “We barely know each other!”

Teruteru shrugged again, waving a dismissive hand as Hajime began to dig through his wallet, “Don’t worry about that. You mentioned that Mikan and Peko were here? I’m always happy to feed some classmates, free of charge.”

Mahiru’s eyes widened, “What!? What are they doing here!?”

Hajime eyed the photographer, “I don’t think that’s your business. How do I know you aren’t here to finish what Sato started with Natsumi? I’ll have you know I keep a baseball bat by the door.”

Mahiru blanched, “I… know you don’t trust me. And I know you probably hate me, and I can’t blame you for that… but I’m here to make things right. I… can’t keep lying, not anymore. I’m so sorry, I really am. Please, all I want to do is talk.”

Hajime was silent for a moment, surveying her face for signs of deceit. He found none.

“Hajime?” Mikan called from the other room, apparently having been eavesdropping, “I-if she wants to t-talk, I t-think it’s okay…”

“...fine,” he finally sighed, “Both of you, in. Before I change my mind.”

Mahiru and Teruteru nodded, the latter looking far more excited than the former at the prospect of being invited inside. They made their way in, kicking their shoes off at the door, before stopping cold once they saw Peko on Hajime’s dining table.

“Oh my god!” Mahiru exclaimed, rushing to the swordswoman’s side, “What happened? Hajime, what did you do to her!?”

“Beg your pardon?” Hajime growled, “I didn’t do anything to her, besides probably save her life. I’ve already told you, I’m not a violent person. Unless somebody gets really on my bad side, that is.”

“H-Hajime found Peko b-beaten up and dying in an a-alley…” Mikan offered, “H-he brought her here and c-called 911, w-who called me in to help…”

Mahiru blinked at Mikan, before bowing her head at Hajime.

“...I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have assumed… ugh, I don’t even know how to say this. I’m sorry for everything.”

“Would somebody care to explain to little ol’ me what on green earth is going on here?” Teruteru asked, setting the food down on the coffee table and examining Peko with a grimace.

“You’re gonna want to sit down, Hanamura,” Hajime sighed, gesturing for the other ultimates in the room to do the same, “It’s a long story, and I think we should all get on the same page.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey, you’ve reached Mahiru Koizumi. Either my phone is dead, or I forgot it at home, or whatever, just leave a mess--”

Fuyuhiko hung up. That was the third attempt at calling Mahiru, and her phone wasn’t even ringing. 

“Of course now would be the time her phone is turned off,” Fuyuhiko grumbled, “Right when I need to contact her the most.”

The yakuza boy sighed and turned back to his bag, tossing his phone inside and zipping it up. The contents were meager; a couple days’ worth of food and water, a few changes of clothes, Peko’s ribbon, some knives, a gun and a clip of ammo, and a gold dragon pin that Natsumi had given him for his fifteenth birthday. He wasn’t sure where he was going, but he knew he couldn’t stay home.

“Maybe I can crash with one of the guys from school,” he pondered, mulling over his options, “Nekomaru, Ryota and Teruteru would get on my nerves too much. Kazuichi’s family is pretty poor, I don’t wanna intrude right now. Nagito is, well, Nagito. Guess that leaves Gundham. Or worse comes to worst, Yukizome could probably clean out a dorm room for me.”

Fuyuhiko slung his bag over his shoulder and stepped out of his bedroom.

“Going somewhere?”

“FUCK!” Fuyuhiko almost jumped out of his skin, “Fukuda! The fuck are you doing outside my room?”

“Keeping watch over you, in my student’s stead. Where are you going at this hour? School is over for the day, right?”

“None of your business,” Fuyuhiko grumbled, attempting to shoulder past the swordsman, “But don’t expect me back soon. Anywhere is better than here right now.”

Fukuda nodded, “I understand, but are you sure this isn’t reckless? Your sister was just murdered, what if it’s an assassination? This is the safest place for you.”

“Natsumi was no assassination,” the yakuza boy snapped, “Natsumi was killed by a reserve course bitch with anger management issues, who’s currently on the lamb, I assume. I won’t come back until she’s dead, and then I’m gonna kill that son of a bitch boss of yours.”

Fukuda’s eyebrow twitched, “Young master, I understand that you’re angry at him, but the oyabun does not intend to kill you. He simply has an… interesting way of molding you to become stronger.”

Fuyuhiko smiled ruefully, “Interesting is right. Now, are you gonna stand in my way or not?”

The two men eyed each other for a few seconds, before Fukuda silently stepped to one side.

“Good,” Fuyuhiko said, striding past the swordsman, “And for the record, Peko never hovered outside my door like that. That’s just creepy.”

Fukuda smiled, “You were never awake to see her do so, young master, but I assure you she did.”

Fuyuhiko hesitated, not really knowing what to do with that information, before sighing and continuing on.

The post-rain afternoon air was brisk as he made his way out onto the street. He wasn’t really sure where to go, but he sure as hell didn’t want to go to Hope’s Peak, not after what happened there that morning. Instead, he just picked a direction and walked, pulling out his phone to message Gundham.

StopCallingMeBabyGangsta: Yo, weird question, but would it be cool if I crashed at your place for a bit?

SupremeOverlordOfIce: My dark castle houses a spare chamber, should the need arise. What would drive one so mighty as you from your own kingdom?

StopCallingMeBabyGangsta: Among other things, the girl who was murdered this morning was my sister. I just can’t be in that house right now.

SupremeOverlordOfIce: Great Asmodeus, my apologies for my tact. My castle is open to you, of course. I shall tell my demon underlings to leave the drawbridge down.

StopCallingMeBabyGangsta: Thanks, bro. There’s a bit of crap to explain, and I’d prefer if I only had to do it once, so message Kazuichi and get him over there too.

Fuyuhiko closed his phone and sighed, mentally mapping out his route to Gundham’s house. Fuyuhiko had only been there once before, to check out a komodo dragon that the breeder was taking care of for a weekend, but he remembered the address.

“I guess there ain’t much point in keeping Peko a secret now,” he murmured sadly, “She’ll never get the chance to live a normal school life now. I’ll tell the guys when I see ‘em.”

The yakuza boy just sighed and continued on his way, unaware of the shadow he had gained, peering from an alleyway ten meters behind him.

~~~~~~~~~~~

After Hajime finished recounting the past few days, the others around him each wore different expressions. Mikan’s, who had largely known everything already, was one of nervousness as she glanced between Mahiru and Hajime. Teruteru just looked troubled, shaking his head and muttering sadly. Mahiru wore an expression of shame, barely being able to meet Hajime’s eyes the entire time.

“Lord,” Teruteru sighed, “It has been a heck of a week for you two, huh?”

“You could say that,” Hajime replied.

Mahiru nodded, “I… guess I should say what I came here to, now. Hajime…”

Hajime raised an eyebrow at her as she struggled to find the right words.

“I’m here to put myself in your hands. I… I’m so sorry. For everything. Natsumi didn’t deserve what happened to her, I never thought she did. Yes, I protected Sato afterwards because she was my friend, but please believe me when I tell you that I had no idea that she was going to do what she did.”

Hajime slowly nodded. He still didn’t like the photographer, but based on her reactions and speech earlier that day, he had no real reason to doubt her.

“Sato…” Mahiru’s voice was strained, “Sato was my friend since elementary school, but she… saw me in a different way. A way that I never saw her. That drove her to do a lot of things to protect me. She would attack anybody who tried to bully or give me a hard time, and after a while, things escalated to… well, you know…”

Teruteru was suddenly much more interested in the story. He was clearly about to make a snide or perverted comment before Mahiru shot him a silencing look.

“I’m here because I can’t defend her any more. I still care about Sato, she’s like a sister to me, but… I can’t lie like this. So, you were right, Hajime. Sato killed her.”

“Tell me something I don’t know, please.” Hajime replied flatly.

“She was hiding out in my shed since this morning, but I doubt she’s still there. I honestly don’t know where else she’ll go, but that’s where I left her, at least. I… I’m willing to confess to everything to the police, no matter what happens to me or her.”

“So why come to me, and not them?”

“Because you were Natsumi’s friend. Sato… Sato committed that crime. I decided it was only fair to give you the right to tell the police whatever you like. As I said, I’m putting myself in your hands.”

Hajime sighed, “Well, that’s considerate of you, I guess. Though frankly, it’s not the police you should be worried about. Natsumi was a member of the Kuzuryu family, right? Isn’t her brother in your class?”

Mahiru’s shoulders tensed as a horrified expression came upon her face.

“Is this…” Hajime asked, incredulous, “Seriously the first time you considered that?”

“I…”

“F-Fuyuhiko wouldn’t do a-anything to a classmate,” Mikan was uncertain, “R-right?”

“That man is a tough one to get a bead on,” Teruteru shook his head, “I don’t honestly know.”

“Tell you what,” Hajime sighed, “First things first. Pekoyama is my current priority. I dunno why she doesn’t want to be taken to a hospital, but whatever. Once she wakes up, we’ll deal with her and help her out, then send her off home so that her parents can do what they like with her. We’ll deal with the Sato shit after that, alright?”

Mahiru nodded solemnly, “I understand.”

“Well, for now, let’s eat,” Teruteru said, laying out the boxed food, “I packed a few extra servings since I knew I was delivering to classmates, but I guess you and I can have them, Mahiru, if we’re gonna be staying here for the time being.”

No complaints were elicited from anyone present as the food was opened. Mikan took her ramen away into the dining hall so that she could eat it while watching over and tending to Peko, which left Hajime in the awkward position of between Mahiru and Teruteru in an uncomfortable silence.

“Hajime?” Mahiru eventually asked.

“What?”

“About what Nagito said this morning, about talentless people…”

“Who’s Nagito?”

“The one with the white hair,” Teruteru said, “You sort of slugged him this morning.”

“Oh yeah,” Hajime recalled, “That felt good. What about him?”

“Well…” Mahiru sighed, “I just want to tell you that not everybody in the main course thinks the way he does. He’s… a bit extreme. His ideals confuse everybody, so we’ve just gotten used to ignoring him.”

Hajime bristled as he recalled what Nagito had said, “Yeah. Honestly, he’s hardly the first person I’ve heard talk like that. It gets old real quick.”

Mahiru’s eyes widened, “Really? Who else?”

Hajime eyed her, “Koizumi, the glorification of talent is what Hope’s Peak was founded on. With how much it’s been hyped up in the public eye, and with the pedestals it puts you ultimates on, that’s what public consciousness has become. You either have talent or you’re nothing. I guess you wouldn’t know, your perspective is skewed, but those of us in the reserve course get the worst of it.”

Both Mahiru and Teruteru were silent for a few moments, processing the information.

“When you put it like that…” Teruteru sighed, “I guess the way you reacted this morning was to be expected.”

Mahiru just nodded, “I… never realized how much distance there was. Isn’t the reserve course supposed to be people who don’t have an ultimate talent yet, but could develop one in the future?”

Hajime suppressed a laugh, “Nope. That’s the way they market it, sure, but the reserve course is just the cash IV that keeps the main course pumping. Everybody there comes from big money, or is willing to basically ruin their lives with student loans just to slap ‘Hope’s Peak Graduate’ on a college application. The administration doesn’t care about us, we just serve our purpose.”

“B-but aren’t people supposed to be able to move up from the reserve course if they find a talent?”

Hajime narrowed his eyes, “Have you ever actually heard of that happening?”

Mahiru didn’t respond, but the obvious answer was no.

“Big money or student loans, huh?” Teruteru asked, “I take it you’re the latter, given the apartment in a shoddy complex like this?”

“Not yet, I’m not,” Hajime shook his head, “It’s a little complicated. Presumably, my folks are loaded, but I don’t actually know them at all. They dumped me with my uncle as soon as they could, and bailed pretty soon after that. Only time I ever heard from them since was through child support cheques, which is how I’ve mostly been sustaining my Hope’s Peak tuition. That and my two jobs. But now, they’ve cut me off, so I’m a bit up shit creek.”

“I see…” Mahiru looked downcast, “Can’t your uncle help out, financially?”

“No, he’s dead. Got into a car accident a few years ago. I’ve been on my own since. The only reason I’m still at Hope’s Peak is because I’ve gotten an… offer from administration that I can’t really talk about. Essentially though, it would cover my tuition.”

Neither ultimate knew exactly what to say. Their tuitions were free, since they were in the main course, so money had never even been something they had considered. Even Teruteru just worked his family diner out of habit, he didn’t need the cash.

“Stow that,” Hajime said, irritated at their expressions that he knew too well, “I have no use for your pity, and I don’t want it. This is just how things worked out for me.”

“S-sorry…” Mahiru looked away from him.

“I’m pretty sure the answer is no,” Teruteru sighed, “But is the education at least good?”

Hajime laughed out loud at that, “Try again, bud. My class’s teacher misses at least one day a week due to oversleeping, drugs, or indifference. Even then, he’s hardly what you could call enthusiastic. I usually just zone him out and figure out the material for myself at home later. Oh, but classes are actually mandatory for us, unlike the main course.”

Teruteru nodded, looking solemn as he absorbed the information for the first time.

“EEEEEEEK! SOMEBODY H-HELP!”

The three all bolted to their feet at Mikan’s scream from the other room. Hajime, being the closest to the door, burst in to find Mikan cowering beneath the very vacant dining table. Hajime whipped his head around, eyes widening when they settled on Peko, who was kneeling on the kitchen floor, holding Hajime’s one good chef’s knife up to her own abdomen with her eyes tensed shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> She's awake!
> 
> Imma be totally honest, I did not originally intend for Teruteru to get in on any of this, it just sorta happened while I write this chapter and I decided to go with it. He's just gonna be here now.


	9. Opening the Door

Peko Pekoyama lived in a dark room. The room was silent. It had no windows, a door that she kept locked tight, and nothing within but herself and her trusted blade. That was her existence. Her world.

“I’m nothing.”

Peko wasn’t sure if she was dead. She knew she should be. It was a curious situation, pondering the sensations of what could conceivably only be an afterlife, yet being confused at the stimuli you experienced.

After all, Peko knew she should be dead, so why would her afterlife feature the mild discomfort of a wooden table on her shoulder blades? Why would her afterlife feature oxygen, which her lungs gasped in greedily as soon as she was cogent enough to feel the pain.

Was she in hell? It seemed like it, to a degree. Not a biblical one, Peko didn’t see any demons around, just a girl whose face she couldn’t make out. The pain certainly corresponded with what hell was supposed to feel like. Her legs, her arms, her head, her chest, everything hurt like fire coursing through every last nerve ending.

Her heart got the worst of it.

Try as she might to block out the image of her last glimpse of Fuyuhiko, she couldn’t banish the image from her mind. Her young master, the boy she had quite literally devoted her life to, being dragged away from her. She remembered how he craned his neck to try to meet her eyes, but she had looked away. She couldn’t let him see how badly she wanted to run to him again. Peko had never been disloyal to the Kuzuryu patriarch until that point, but she was unable to deny the urge to slice through his throat to get back to Fuyuhiko. But she didn’t. Hadn’t, rather, and here she was.

“Y-you’re awake!”

Peko’s bleary eyes slowly got used to the light of the room she now found herself in. Her head still throbbed with agony, but she felt her eyes widen with shock as she realized what that meant.

Your head can only throb this badly if your heart is beating.

Peko wasn’t dead.

“No…” she whispered, but she wasn’t sure if it was true denial. 

“Y-you were out for a long time…” the voice came again, Peko turning her head to make out the face of Mikan Tsumiki, “Y-you lost a lot of b-blood, too…”

“Where…” Peko murmured, looking around and evaluating her surroundings.

“O-oh, you’re in an apartment. D-don’t worry, it’s s-safe here… the boy who found you i-in that alleyway is r-really nice… H-he’s in the other room…”

Peko shook her head dully, wincing at the pain it brought, but with the pain came a clearer thought, breaking through the cloud.

“Natsumi…” Peko whispered, remembering why she was like this. She remembered now why the oyabun had done this. She remembered why she had lost Fuyuhiko, or rather, why Fuyuhiko had lost her. She had failed.

“I-I fixed you up as best I could…” Mikan was saying, “You w-were pretty banged up… W-what happened?”

“...I failed in my duty,” Peko replied slowly, “I should not be alive…”

Mikan blinked, “I-I’m sorry, but… what? W-what duty? Why s-shouldn’t you be alive?”

“I failed him… I failed her… I failed them both…”

Mikan just looked confused, “P-Peko, I don’t think you’re t-thinking straight right n-now…”

Mikan let out an ‘eep’ as Peko sat up, ignoring the agonizing protest of just about every muscle in her body.

“P-please don’t move so much!” the nurse exclaimed as Peko slid herself off the table, standing as best she could on wobbly legs, “Y-you have a lot of broken ribs! I m-mean sure, your legs were j-just dislocated, so you can use t-them, but you really should lie down!”

Peko glanced down to inspect herself. Indeed, it looked as though Mikan had gone through a substantial effort to heal her injuries. 

“I apoligize, Mikan,” Peko sighed, voice shaky, “You would not understand, but… I have to do something, that you will not want me to do.”

“W-what is that?”

“I had one purpose,” Peko replied as she made her way into the kitchen adjacent to the dining room slowly, “One single reason to live. I failed in that purpose, and it is now my duty to die with what dignity I can. I thank you for giving me a chance to die in my own way, but it is what I must do.”

Mikan’s eyes widened immensely as Peko grabbed a large chef’s knife from a magnetic holder, inspecting it as a starving man might regard a single almond. A meager comfort, but a patronizing one all the same.

“EEEEEEEK! SOMEBODY H-HELP!” Mikan screamed as Peko kneeled to the linoleum floor, pressing the blade against her stomach. The door quickly burst open as Mikan dove under the dining room table, squeezing her ears and eyes shut.

“What the hell?” Peko heard a male voice she didn’t recognize.

“KELLY CLARKSON!” came another male one that she did somewhat recognize. With her eyes shut, it was difficult to be sure, but it didn’t really matter.

“Oh, dear god!” a new female voice this time, again familiar, “Stop her!”

“Young master Fuyuhiko…” she thought as she began to press the knife against her skin, ignoring the flash of pain that was quickly lost among the rest of her muscles screaming for leniency, “Young mistress Natsumi… I have failed you… I know I cannot expect your forgiveness, but please, if you could---”

The knife clattered to the floor, skittering across the kitchen tile before stopping against a cabinet. Peko went flying back, crying out in pain as her entire body flared up once more. It was only as she was catching her breath with her stinging cheek pressed against the floor that she realized that she had been punched in the face for the second time today.

“What in the hell…” the first, unfamiliar male voice asked above her, “do you THINK YOU’RE DOING, PEKOYAMA!?”

Coughing against the pain, Peko opened her eyes to meet those of the boy standing above her. His green eyes were flaring with incredulous anger as he gritted his teeth into a threatening expression.

“I…” she trailed off as a female figure darted past them both, grabbing the knife and throwing it out of Peko’s reach. Peko’s gaze never left the boy’s, but she recognized the red bob of Mahiru Koizumi out of the corner of her eye.

“You…” the boy seethed, “are becoming more and more difficult to keep alive, Pekoyama.”

“Seriously!?” Mahiru’s voice came, “That’s the best you have right now?”

“Oh, like you know what the hell is going on,” the boy spat.

“You do not understand,” Peko said, trying to get her arms under her, “I’m sorry, but this is something I have to do. I have to---”

“Shut the fuck up,” the boy shook his head, “What the hell are you talking about? You were cutting your own fucking stomach open. That’s not something anybody HAS to do, in any circumstances.”

Peko looked down, no longer able to meet his eyes, “As I said, you do not understand. I failed in my duty. I couldn’t protect my young mistress. I have been cast aside, now I must die with what little dignity I have left…”

“What are you talking about, Peko?” Mahiru asked, her eyes becoming cloudy, “Duty? Dignity? What’s going on!? Why are you doing this!?”

“I lived a very different life than the one you saw me as,” Peko sighed, “I was a tool, one that was granted social liberty at Hope’s Peak because my young master wanted me to live a normal high school life. But when Lady Natsumi died, I failed both him and her, and now I have to die for that. I’m sorry it will be distressing to you, but---”

“You knew Natsumi?” The boy cut her off again, “How?”

“I served her as I did my young master, Fuyuhiko,” Peko explained, “But I could not protect her. I… I failed in my purpose. To protect the Kuzuryu children, my masters, and now…”

“Back up,” Mahiru shook her head, “‘Young master Fuyuhiko’? Peko, please, what are you talking about!?”

“Let her speak,” the boy said, raising a hand to silence the photographer. Out of the corner of her eye, Peko spotted Mikan being helped up, quivering, by a concerned-looking Teruteru Hanamura.

Peko looked into the boy’s eyes. She wasn’t quite sure what to call the emotion present within, but it was somewhere between exasperation and… was that pleading?

“Ever since I was born, I have served the Kuzuryus,” Peko struggled to sit upright as she spoke, “Specifically, served under Fuyuhiko and his sister, Natsumi. I was their tool, their weapon to carry out their will. When I was admitted to Hope’s Peak alongside Fuyuhiko, he ordered me to hide that relationship so that he and I could live normal high school lives. However, that caused me to become negligent and soft. Natsumi, my charge, my young mistress, was murdered and I could do nothing to stop it. I failed in my only purpose. Because of that, I---”

“That’s it?” the boy asked, a light chuckle escaping his throat, “Sheesh, melodramatic much?”

Peko’s jaw hung open. How was she supposed to respond to that?

“Hajime?” Mahiru asked the boy, her eyes wide with shock as she absorbed so much new information.

Oh.

“Hajime Hinata,” Peko breathed, “That’s why I recognize your face. Your name is Hajime Hinata. I looked you up in the Hope’s Peak database when you befriended Natsumi.”

Peko blinked, before continuing, “Wait a moment, you were friends with Natsumi…”

“Correct,” Hajime replied, seemingly choosing to ignore the fact that Peko already knew who he was all of a sudden, “Seemingly better than you did, actually, despite what you claim about ‘serving her’ your whole life.”

Peko’s eyes narrowed, “Explain.”

“You’re right, she’s dead. Sato Esumi killed her this morning. That means a life on your side has already been lost today.”

Peko cocked her head to the side, wondering where the cowlicked boy was going with this.

“First of all, it sounds like you’ve still got a reason to live, even if you continue to abide by that, frankly rather troubling, self-image. Fuyuhiko, you said, was also someone you served. Why not---”

“No,” Peko shook her head sadly, “It is him that I cannot see ever again, no matter what. I cannot allow him to look upon the failure that I have become.”

“...okay, let’s try a different angle. Would Natsumi want you dead for what happened?”

Peko opened her mouth to respond, but her words died in her throat.

“You know that I was friends with her,” Hajime continued, “And I’m honestly appalled you would think that, if that is what you believe. Natsumi talked a lot of smack, yeah, but she never wanted anybody dead.”

Mahiru shrank a little bit at that, but Peko wasn’t quite sure why.

“Tell me, Pekoyama. What did Natsumi think of you? Were you really just an object to her?”

Peko’s pride as a tool told her to say yes. An object, a weapon, that was what she was. That was all she had ever been. It was all she was supposed to have been. Natsumi didn’t outright deny that on any occasion, Peko even recalled the girl referring to her as a “glorified pocket knife” earlier that week.

But at the same time, Peko recalled the times that Natsumi would present her with one of her two christmas or birthday gifts every year, the other being from Fuyuhiko. When they were smaller, Natsumi would call Peko into her chambers only to dress the swordswoman up in cutesy outfits and makeup.

“I…” Peko wasn’t sure what to say.

“Answer the question, Pekoyama,” Hajime took a step forward, “What did Natsumi think of you?”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Hey Peko, you know anything about long division?”

Peko nodded to Natsumi, “Yes, I can do it.”

“And you passed sixth grade math, right?”

“Yes, I passed it last year. Do you need help with your homework?”

“Yeah, I’m kinda stuck on number three.”

Peko observed the young girl’s sheet, “You have forgotten to carry the three over to the hundreds’ place.”

Natsumi’s eyes lit up, “Oh yeah, oops! Thanks, big sis!”

Peko stiffened, but did not respond as she left the room to tend to her chores.

Peko did not often allow herself something so selfish as a private smile, but she wore a small one then.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Natsumi…” Peko swallowed, forcing tears back, “No, I suppose she did not see me that way…”

“Didn’t think so,” Hajime smiled, “And judging by what you told me about him wanting a normal life for you, I doubt Fuyuhiko did either.”

Peko did not respond, but was having much more difficulty holding the tears back now.

“So, it seems to me like the only person who matters right now who thinks of you as a tool is yourself. And as far as I know, there isn’t much competition between being a tool nobody will use the way you want them to use you, and being a person that people love like they love family.”

“B-but…” Peko cursed herself silently as the first beads of water dripped from her eyes.

“Unless you somehow have a rebuttal,” Hajime laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “Let’s let Tsumiki get you patched up, alright?”

“But Natsumi…” Peko whispered as the tears fell.

“Natsumi will get her justice,” Hajime nodded, “We’ll see to that together, okay? Remember, she was my friend. I was actually probably her only friend, if we’re being honest. So doesn’t it mean anything if I forgive you for what happened in her stead?”

Shakily, Peko looked up to meet Hajime’s eyes once again. His hard and angry expression was gone as his eyebrows lifted, showing her a soft smile.

“Pekoyama,” he said softly, “Even if you don’t want Fuyuhiko to see you. Even if you think Natsumi was your fault, for whatever reason. You don’t have to be the one to pay for that. Your life is worth more than that, and it’s an honest shame nobody made you realize that sooner.”

Peko Pekoyama lived in a dark room. The room was silent. It had no windows, a door that she kept locked tight, and nothing within but herself and her trusted blade. That was her existence. Her world.

In that moment, the door that had only ever been cracked open at most, was thrown off its hinges by a warm, green gaze and a kind, gentle smile.

And for the first time, Peko let herself cry. She had shed tears before, yes, but it had always been shameful. Emotion that she had failed at suppressing. The result of her own shortcomings.

The tears that she let out into Hajime’s green hoodie and soft embrace were not so.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“So,” Fuyuhiko sighed, “That’s about everything. Any questions?”

Gundham and Kazuichi, seated on the couch across from him, just blinked.

“So fucking many,” Kazuichi finally said.

“That is indeed quite the tale,” Gundham murmured, “So the fair swordswoman was your right hand the entire time… how did this escape my senses…”

“And now she’s dead?” Kazuichi asked, “But… she was just fine yesterday!”

“Yeah, I know,” Fuyuhiko shook his head bitterly, “My dad was always an asshole, but he’s the boss, so up until now, I ignored it. But this…”

The yakuza boy gritted his teeth and ground his palms into fists, “This won’t stand. That rat bastard will pay in blood for this, I swear it. First Natsumi, now Peko.... I don’t even care what happens to me. As long as he dies, I’m all for it.”

Fuyuhiko’s gaze darkened as he finished, “Peko didn’t deserve that.”

“Peko was our classmate as well,” Gundham nodded, “Our comerade. We will assist you in ousting your father from his throne of blood and violence.”

Kazuichi blinked, “Uh… that’s all well and good, man, but isn’t his dad a crime boss? Like, big Godfather type shit? We’re pissed, sure, but we’re just three high school students, really…”

“You fear a man who would murder his own pawn for a crime she didn’t commit?” Gundham asked, “Then you are an even lower coward than he.”

“I actually agree with Kazuichi here, guys,” Fuyuhiko shook his head, “Gundham, I’m grateful to you for letting me stay here, I can;t ask you for anything more than that. My war with my dad is my own, I can’t let you---”

“Nonsense, my friend,” Gundham laughed, “Kazuichi is mistaken. We are not simply ‘three high school students’. With me at your side, you have an army at your disposal.”

Fuyuhiko was about to question what Gundham meant, before a grand total of sixteen hamsters appeared all over the breeder’s body. The four devas scurried out of his scarf and nestled on his head, seemingly shouting small, squeaky war cries. The twelve zodiac generals scurried to his arms and shoulders and began shouting (or whatever it is hamsters do instead) to the shadows around the three boys.

Kazuichi swallowed in fear as Grizner, the grizzly bear, emerged from the shadows, flanked closely by Cinderella the tiger. One by one, a carnival parade of exotic animals began to approach, surrounding the three ultimates.

“Or,” Gundham laughed deeply, “Had you forgotten the prowess of my demon armies?”

A grey wolf stepped forward and planted its snout in Fuyuhiko’s lap, letting out a determined snuff. The yakuza pet the dog softly, remarking to himself how much its fur reminded him of Peko’s hair. In retrospect, given the piercing red eyes, that may have been intentional by Gundham.

“Gundham,” Fuyuhiko muttered, a firm smile breaking across his face, “We are best fucking friends.”

“Hey!” Kazuichi exclaimed, “I’m here too!”

“Yeah yeah, sure, you too.”

“This is not even the extent of our forces, remember,” the breeder smiled, “We have more allies to draw upon. Eleven more, actually. Twelve if you include our mentor. The goddess of the blade was as much a comerade of theirs as she was ours. They will lend their assistance, should you require it.”

Fuyuhiko nodded slowly, “You’re right. For all the zero experience she had, Peko actually did end up making friends with everybody.”

Gundham stood and extended his hand to pat Fuyuhiko on the shoulder, the first time the breeder had ever touched the yakuza to his memory.

“Prepare your bloodthirst for a later time, brother mine. Tomorrow, we garner our forces. And tonight…”

The breeder snapped his fingers, prompting the twelve zodiac generals to spring from his shoulders and run into the kitchen.

“Tonight, we drink to our fallen family.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“How is she?” Mahiru asked.

Hajime shrugged as he shut the door behind him, leaving himself and Mahiru alone in the living room while the others remained in the dining room, “She’s not going for the knife any more, so that’s improvement. Mikan is fixing her side up, and she seems to be a little more stable emotionally. She still insists that Fuyuhiko not know she’s alive, though.”

Mahiru sighed, looking down, “If those two really were as close as she says, I had no idea. But if he thinks he’s lost his sister and Peko in a single day…”

“Yeah. I’m just glad one of them made it out. One death on my conscience was enough for the day.”

Mahiru eyed him with an expression he couldn’t read, “How did you do that, by the way?”

“Do what?”

“When she was… you know… I just froze up. I had no idea what to say, I had no idea what to even begin to do… but t seemed like you knew exactly what to say to talk her down.”

Hajime scrunched his brow, “Don’t give me too much credit. I was flying by the seat of my pants just as much as we all were. I just have a bit of a knack for people, that’s all. Always have.”

The photographer nodded slowly, “I see.”

The pair descended into an uncomfortable silence for a few seconds.

“I’m going to tell her about Sato,” Hajime sighed, “Assuming she doesn’t know already. But not until she’s healed enough to move. Nobody would get any good out of her limping around out there for no reason.”

Mahiru sighed, “Is it selfish of me to want to forgive Sato? I know she committed murder, and I can never overlook that… She and I will never be the way we were again, but… I still want to see the good in her.”

Hajime snorted, “Assuming there is any.”

Mahiru didn’t respond, but the expression on her face made Hajime regret his lack of tact a bit.

“...look, you and Sato were close for most of your lives. She betrayed your sense of justice, which means you two are never gonna go back to how things were, but maybe that’s okay. I mean, from what you’ve described mixed with what I’ve seen, the relationship there didn’t seem very healthy to begin with.”

Mahiru nodded sadly.

“I’m never going to like Sato, or see any good in her,” Hajime continued, “In fact, I hate her guts and would very much like to see her pay. And I honestly don’t care if you see good or bad in her. We aren’t friends either, so I’m indifferent. But if you want my opinion, I don’t think you have to forgive her in order to think well of her.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I haven’t exactly forgiven you for covering for her, or for lying to the police up until now, but I can tell you aren’t a terrible person at heart. Not so much as Sato, anyway. So I haven’t forgiven you, but I’m not going to hold it against you any more either.”

The photographer blinked at him then, unsure of what to say.

“That’s… surprisingly mature of you, Hajime.”

Hajime smiled, “I’m full of surprises, it seems, Koizumi.”

“You know you can call us by our first names, right? You’ve gotten wrapped up in our class’s business so much already that it’s just strange for you not to at this point.”

“...sure thing. Now, you should go check on your friend. I have to go change again, this hoodie is covered in tears and snot.”

Hajime could only just barely make out Mahiru whisper “Thank you,” before opening the door to the dining room and greeting Peko with a soft smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little Fire Emblem jargon for those who know those games:
> 
> Hajime and Peko have attained Support Level C!
> 
> Fuyuhiko and Gundham have attained Support Level A!
> 
> Mahiru and Hajime have attained Support Level C!
> 
> Yes, that is occasionally how I keep track of character relationships when I write, don't judge me.


	10. Strays

“How did you find me?” Peko asked as she settled down on the couch, shaky legs supported by Teruteru and Mahiru.

“Pure happenstance,” Hajime replied, settling down cross-legged across from her, “I take a route past that alleyway to and from Hope’s Peak every day.”

Peko blinked, “So.... you did not know you were looking for me?”

“Nope. Blind chance. The fact that I happened to be Natsumi’s friend was just a case of small world, nothing more.”

Peko pondered this for a few moments. Had she been any more spiritual, she would have likened Hajime finding her to karma or fate or something equally existential. Regardless, it was certainly an interesting coincidence.

“In that case,” she looked around at her three classmates, “What are all of you doing here?”

“Mostly chance there, too,” Teruteru shrugged, “I was just delivering food here, which Hajime and Mikan ordered. I ran into Mahiru on the way. Speaking of, we saved you some.”

The chef held out a plate of dumplings, which the bandaged swordswoman accepted with a grateful smile.

“I-I’m here because I was c-closer than the ambulance, so… the hospital s-sometimes sends me instead…” Mikan mumbled.

“And you, Mahiru?” Peko asked, taking a bite of dumpling, “What business have you here?”

The photographer tensed, hesitating. Peko noticed her glance over at Hajime, who nodded slightly at her.

“I…” she began, “I came here to apologize to Hajime about… my role with Natsumi. I suppose since you two were close, I should apologize to you too.”

The redhead cleared her throat before continuing, “Sato and I have been best friends for years. Most of our lives, actually. When I found out she had murdered someone, I… panicked. I let her hide in my backyard shed and I lied to the police, but… I couldn’t do it anymore. I came here to tell Hajime the truth, so that he could tell the police whatever he wanted. I’m so sorry, Peko.”

Peko sighed, “I was aware you and Sato were friends. Frankly, I don’t blame you for your part. I myself would often take the blame for mistakes made by Fuyuhiko or Natsumi around the household, after all. It’s only natural to protect people you care for.”

Mahiru let out a sigh of relief, the color returning to her face somewhat, “That’s… thank you, Peko.”

“Although if we’re being honest now, and I have no reason to hide this anymore, I should confess to something as well. The assailant who scarred Sato’s arm two days ago was me.”

The room fell silent, the reactions of everyone present each somewhat different.

“Oh, I guess that does make sense,” Hajime nodded, probably the least disturbed out of the lot, “Natsumi had nothing to do with that order though, right?”

Peko shook her head, “No, she knew nothing of it. The order came from her and Fuyuhiko’s father, oyabun Masayoshi Kuzuryu. He was the one who told me to make an example of Sato after she threatened Natsumi in school.”

“Sounds like a real piece of work,” Teruteru sighed, “Guess that’s where Fuyuhiko gets his temper…”

Peko blinked. Never once had she actually heard someone speak ill of the oyabun, presumably out of fear. Her own blind obedience up until that point hadn’t even allowed her own thoughts to paint the man in any negative way, but now…

“Fuyuhiko has his kindnesses,” Peko smiled, “They are hidden, yes, but there. His father, however…”

The others looked at her intently. What she was saying wasn’t exactly strange, but she was processing thoughts she had never even dared to consider before, due to her role. It was oddly exhilarating.

“His father is a prick,” the swordswoman nodded, heart beating fast with glee, “A complete bastard, in all honesty. He was the one who tried to kill me in that alley, and that was hardly the first time he injured me.”

“Oh, Peko, that sounds awful,” Mahiru wore a look of compassion, “I can’t even imagine…”

“It’s quite alright,” Peko reassured, “It’s actually… quite liberating to say these things. To even think them.”

Hajime nodded, “I get that. I know what it’s like to live under an oppressive thumb. Fuck Masayoshi Kuzuryu.”

Peko couldn’t control the slightly crazy smile on her face as she nodded, “Yes. Fuck him indeed.”

Teruteru was just giggling like a maniac, watching the scene unfold.

“I-I’m glad you’re f-free of that, Peko…” Mikan said, “But w-we should probably discuss g-going to the hospital… You still h-have a lot of difficulties m-moving, and… um…”

Peko squinted, “I… would rather I didn’t go to a hospital, honestly. And not for the same reason as before, I do want to heal now. I just…”

“W-what is it?”

“I… would rather Fuyuhiko not learn of my being alive for the time being, if that’s alright.”

Hajime raised an eyebrow, “But… isn’t he, like… your family?”

Peko’s heart sank at his words, “Yes, he is. The closest thing I have ever had, honestly. I know it must be weighing on him, and I know keeping it from him is selfish, I just… I can’t face him yet. I’m sorry, but I’m not ready.”

Mahiru narrowed her eyes, “Peko, you don’t still think that you failed him, do you?”

“I did fail him,” Peko sighed, “Natsumi’s death will still weigh on my conscience, it probably always will. That has not changed. What has changed is my will to live. Before, I was a tool, or a weapon, with the single purpose of being used by the Kuzuryus.”

Peko blushed and looked downwards before continuing, “I… was given the name Peko Pekoyama at birth because people needed to address me by a name, but until now, I had never actually thought of myself as a human being. Now… I do have yet to work up the heart to see Fuyuhiko again, but also… somewhat selfishly, I would like to get to know Peko Pekoyama. The person, whoever she is.”

She felt a warm hand clasp her shoulder comfortingly. She looked up to find Hajime standing above her and smiling, “I understand. It would be hard to do that if Fuyuhiko just put you back at his side like before. Not to mention the risk of the great asshole himself catching wind and trying to finish the job.”

“O-okay then…” Mikan looked down, “N-no hospital, than?”

“If it’s alright,” Peko nodded at her, “I should also refrain from attending classes at Hope’s Peak for a while. Please, while you three are there, make an effort not to tell Fuyuhiko I’m here.”

“You want us to lie to him about that?” Mahiru asked, looking troubled.

“If he asks you directly, you can answer honestly,” Peko sighed, “But if he doesn’t, you can just avoid the conversation. I don’t intend to keep it a secret from him forever, just until I’ve… learned what I wanted to. About myself, that is. Though I suppose I’ll be without a roof over my head for som---”

“No, that’s wrong,” Hajime smiled, “My couch is open, remember, and you’re already here, after all.”

Peko’s eyes widened, “Oh, no, I couldn’t possibly intrude like that!”

Hajime shrugged, “Oh, it’s fine. It’s not like I wouldn’t get anything out if it. After all, Hope’s Peak gives you main coursers that monthly talent development allowance, right? The stuff that you’re supposed to use on materials for your skills?”

Peko nodded slowly.

“Well, maybe some of that can go towards the apartment. Just call it your share of the rent while you stay here. It would take some pressure off my work, anyway, my back could do with less overtime at the factory.”

“I-I could come by every day b-before school, if t-that’s alright..” Mikan raised her hand, “J-just to check on Peko and c-change her bandages, if I wouldn’t b-be a b-bother….”

Peko glanced between the two, about to object again, before two things silenced her. The first was a flare of pain from her broken hand as she moved it, reminding her of the state of her body. The second was Hajime’s green eyes meeting hers, dancing with more warmth than she had ever seen someone look at her with before. Not even Fuyuhiko.

“Well…” she murmured, uncertain, “If you have no issue with it…”

“It’s decided then,” Hajime clapped.

Mahiru eyed the boy warily, “I dunno… how can we be sure you aren’t gonna do anything creepy?”

Hajime rolled his eyes, “Wow, way to show your faith in me. Have I seriously not proven I’m above that crap by now?”

“Could you even blame him?” Teruteru was salivating as he fantasized, “A boy and a girl, brought together by mutual loss and fate, now under the same roof? Who knows what flame might be kindled?”

“Not helping, man,” Hajime sighed, not noticing the pink dusting that came across Peko’s cheeks.

“I could also cook, if you like,” Peko offered, “I often prepared lunch for Fuyuhiko and Natsumi, I---”

“Y-you shouldn’t m-move if you can h-help it…” Mikan shook her head.

“Yeah, don’t worry about that,” Hajime smiled at her, “I’m no master, but I can cook well enough to get by.”

“Hey Teruteru,” Mahiru said, “Think you could drop by lunch for Peko every day, since Hajime’s gonna be at school or working almost every day?”

“Well, if it’s someone as fine as you asking, how could I possibly say no?”

“Gross.”

“Thank you all…” Peko said softly, “I don’t know what I did to deserve this kindness, but I promise to repay it some day.”

Hajime nodded at her, bringing a smile to her lips, “No problem. For now, just focus on getting better.”

“E-excuse me…” Mikan said timidly, “T-there’s still one p-problem… P-Peko won’t get her allowance from H-Hope’s Peak i-if they think she’s d-dead…”

Hajime blinked, “Oh yeah. Right, I guess that makes sense.”

“That’s not too big a problem,” Mahiru shrugged, “We just let Miss Yukizome know what’s going on, and swear her to secrecy too. She trusts us, it’ll be fine. I’ll call her right now.”

The photographer got out her phone and flicked it on. She grimaced at the screen slightly.

“Is something wrong?” Peko asked, noting her expression.

Mahiru sighed and turned her phone to show the room.

FUYUHIKO KUZURYU: Missed Call(s): 3

SATO ESUMI: Missed Call(s): 18

DAD: Missed Call(s): 2

Dad: Where are you? Your friend just stormed out into the rain without you.

Hajime sucked his teeth, “Yow. Has your phone been off?”

“Yeah,” Mahiru replied as she sent off a brief text to her father, before dialing Yukizome’s number, “I turned it off because I didn’t want to hear Sato calling me anymore, I just couldn’t deal.”

The photographer took her phone into the other room to have the conversation with Yukizome.

“Sato Esumi…” Peko muttered, “She’s the one that did it…”

Hajime nodded, “Yeah. I’m gonna fill the police in on everything I know tomorrow at school. Don’t think about that for now, alright? Just focus on healing, we’ll deal with that garbage once you’re better.”

Under normal circumstances, Peko would have disagreed, and demanded to go hunting for Sato on her own. Something about Hajime, however, gave her pause, and she wasn’t quite sure what.

“Very well,” she finally said.

Mahiru reentered a few minutes later, looking satisfied, “Yukizome agreed to keep it on the DL from Fuyuhiko, but only on the premise that she stops by every now and then to check on Peko, starting after classes tomorrow. And she wants a spare key.”

Hajime sighed, “Fantastic, my apartment continues to grow into a fucking zoo of you people. Fine. I have a spare key I can give her.”

“I should probably get going,” the photographer said, “My dad is getting worried, and I gotta go put out several fires when I get home anyway. Plus laundry and cleaning and the like. See you guys at school tomorrow, yeah?”

Teruteru stood, “I’ll be on my way as well, I should get back to the diner. I’ll see you tomorrow at noon sharp for our first… one-on-one session, Peko.”

The wink the cook gave her over his shoulder sent chills down the swordswoman’s spine.

“I-I’ll head out as well then,” Mikan said, following the other ultimates out the door, “I-I have work at the h-hospital to see to… see y-you tomorrow…”

The door closed behind the three, and Hajime and Peko were alone in his apartment.

“So…” Hajime said after a few moments, “What kind of movies do you like?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They didn’t have to worry too hard about keeping secrets from Fuyuhiko the following day. He didn’t even come to school. That was understandable, as his sister had been murdered the previous day. Mahiru had noticed Gundham and Kazuichi fidgeting uncomfortably during roll call, but she wasn’t certain enough to comment.

“Hey,” she waved to Mikan, careful to talk quietly, “How was Peko this morning?”

“O-oh,” the nurse said, “She s-seemed fine, o-or at least as fine as y-you could expect… Hajime and I left her h-home alone with some of his b-books and movies, and we w-walked to school t-together…”

Mahiru pointedly chose to ignore the look that crossed the nurse’s face when she recounted that.

“Hajime seems…” she sighed, “...alright. Surprisingly so, for somebody who befriended Natsumi, at least.”

Mikan nodded, “Y-yeah, he’s very n-nice… He and P-Peko seem to get along w-well already, too…”

Mahiru recalled the expression Peko had worn when she had first been invited by the talentless boy to stay at his apartment. During their time together as classmates of Hope’s Peak, Mahiru had made several attempts to get closer to Peko, but had never quite broken through the swordswoman’s stoic shell. With Hajime, however, Peko seemed like she allowed herself to let down her hair somewhat, which was good to see out of her. Especially after everything that had happened.

“Well, he did say he was good with people,” Mahiru said, “I should probably go talk to him about that at some point, assuming I don’t get hauled off by the police at some point soon.”

Mikan smiled, “O-oh, you don’t have to worry about t-that… Hajime gave his s-statement to the police this m-morning before class, while I w-was with him, and he n-never mentioned you by name…”

Mahiru blinked, “R-really? Why wouldn’t he?”

Mikan shrugged, “I don’t k-know, but he just t-told them that the pervert story was f-fake, which they apparently already knew… the one he t-talked to looked like a d-detective, and he said they already f-found Sato’s DNA at the scene… Hajime just t-told them that Sato was h-hiding out in an a-anonymous friend’s shed, but she wasn’t there now, and h-he gave them the n-name of your neighborhood so that they c-could set up a perimeter…”

Mahiru hesitated, mulling over this information. She remembered what Hajime had told her the previous day, that he had’t forgiven her, but wouldn’t hold her actions against her any longer.

“One more thing we owe thay guy, I guess,” she eventually sighed, but a small smile crossed her lips, “Hey, did you see Kirigiri from class 78 there? If so, I think I’d like to give her my side of the story.”

Mikan shook her head, “N-no, we only s-spoke to a guy with blue h-hair and a hat… he was around our age, b-but I didn’t know him…”

Mahiru shrugged, “Well, Kirigiri is probably involved anyway, given her reputation. I’ll go talk to he--”

“Whatcha doin?” came the high-pitched voice of Hiyoko, as the dancer grabbed Mahiru’s wrist, “Seems boring. Wanna come talk to me instead of this trashy skank?”

Mahiru rolled her eyes as Mikan trembled and launched into a slurry of apologies and tears. As crazy as it all way, and even though Fuyuhiko and Peko were absent, the craziness of class 77-b was comforting to her. A sign that maybe, just maybe, not everything she knew had been thrown into chaos.

~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime and Mikan had departed two hours, ten minutes, and fourty seven seconds ago.

Teruteru would arrive for lunch in approximately two hours and thirty minutes.

Peko knew these things because each and every second was a new type of agony that she had never really experienced before.

“This feels wrong,” she thought, staring at the clock on the wall, “On a normal day, I would have trained with Fukuda from seven until eight AM, after which I would go to school with Fuyuhiko and occupy my time there. Even on my days off, I would train and study for most of the day. I’m… bored.”

Peko sighed and turned off the TV. She had plugged in a movie from Hajime’s collection called Soul, but it was difficult to focus on. She wasn’t used to watching movies, and even less used to sitting still for long periods of time. With her injuries, however, there wasn’t much she could do about it.

“Perhaps a book would be better,” she muttered, turning to the stack the other had left on the coffee table for her. It was an interesting mix of classics and newer novels, which pointed to Hajime having quite varied taste in literature. Although, Peko assumed some of them he had bought for the reserve course’s english classes. The Count of Notre Dame was so thick it intimidated her, and it didn’t take much thought to eliminate Jurassic Park and Pines, so eventually she settled on the seven titles she had heard so much about from Gundham.

“Better than nothing,” the swordswoman figured as she cracked open the first book in the Harry Potter series and began to read.

The doorbell rang, signalling Teruteru’s arrival. Peko looked up, confused, as she had only just begun the book, and he wasn’t supposed to arrive for another---

“He’s ten minutes late!?” she thought as her eyes fell on the clock on the wall. She immediately checked the page number she was on, seeing that she had somehow made it to page 122.

Teruteru’s smile was broad as she opened the door for him, having hobbled over from the couch, “I’m here with your meal! I hope you haven’t been too bored without anybody here.”

“Not at all, seemingly,” Peko chuckled as she sat back down with the steaming platter of hamburg steak that the chef had delivered her, “I have learned that Gundham has good taste in books.”

Teruteru raised an eyebrow at that, but said nothing, “Well then, there goes my line about ‘keeping you company’...”

Peko rolled her eyes, “Thank you for the food, Teruteru. You can go now.”

“Yes, ma’am,” the chef smiled before closing the door behind him with a wave.

About an hour later, Peko was broken from her reading reverie for the second time by a scratching sound at the window. She blinked, remembering no trees outside that window, and she got up to inspect what it was. She pulled aside the curtains and glanced around. The window was at eye level, but it had a flower planter on the outside that a tabby cat was perched on, staring back at her.

Holy shit, a tabby cat was looking at her.

Peko suppressed a squeal of glee at the fluffy animal, trying to avert her gaze lest her eyes scare it off. The cat did not, however, even flinch as she looked up to inspect it. The animal was adorable, with scruffy pale fur and an ear that folded downwards. One of its eyes was cloudy, sporting a claw mark scar over it.

“Hello there,” Peko murmured softly, “You’ve seen your fair share of battles, have you? I have as well.”

The cat did not move as Peko slowly opened the window and tentatively reached her hand towards it. Her heart soared with elation when it pushed its head into her outstretched hand, allowing itself to be pet.

“You are precious,” she whispered to it, “What is your name? Mine is Peko.”

She felt around for a collar, but was surprised when she couldn’t find one. The animal was not mangy, or even very dirty, but it was seemingly a stray.

“Yet another thing we have in common,” she murmured, prompting a small mew from the cat that just made her even happier, “You know, this is the first time I have been able to touch something this soft and fluffy. I must thank you.”

Her glee turned into shock as the cat jumped through the open window, landing on all fours on the carpeted floor.

“Hey now,” she said as she bent down to pick it up, ignoring the flare of pain that accompanied the movement, “This isn’t your home. You have to go back outside.”

The cat did not resist her holding it until she lifted it up to the window, at which point it wriggled out of her grasp and darted back onto the couch, sitting down and staring at her intently. Its gaze was inviting, almost as if to say, “Come on over”. Peko sat down next to it, stroking its ears gently. It licked the underside of her hand as she did so, tickling her and causing her to smile.

“You have no intention of leaving, do you?” she asked it. It just cocked its head at her, its one good eye peering into hers. Now that she was this close, she realized the cat was male.

“I don’t suppose you have a name, do you?” she asked again, not expecting an answer. The cat just pawed at her arm, prompting her to pet it again. She happily obliged.

“Your presence here will be up to Hajime when he gets back,” she sighed, relenting to the cat, “But for now, you can keep me company. I think I’ll call you… Nozomu. Thank you for letting me pet you, Nozomu.”

Nozomu settled himself beside Peko on the couch, curling up into a small ball on her feet as she leaned back and cracked open her book again.

Hajime didn’t take much convincing once he returned with Yukizome in tow. He had been apprehensive at first, but once Peko offered to take his food expenses out of her Hope’s Peak allowance, and after a few minutes of playing with the cat himself, Hajime agreed. After all, what was one more stray in his apartment?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> God, finally, some lightheartedness in this freaking story. Hell yeah, I finally got to a point in it where fluff feels natural.
> 
> Speaking of fluff, yeah, I gave Peko and Hajime a fur baby. Whatta ya gonna do about it?


	11. Schemes and Secrets

The next time that Mahiru saw Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu was several days later, outside by the fountain.

“Mahiru,” she heard his gruff voice call, her heart sinking, “Yo, wait up.”

“Fuyuhiko!” she turned, trying to hide her apprehension, “T-there you are! You’ve been out for a while, I guess I can’t blame you for that…”

“Yeah,” the yakuza boy scratched at his neck nervously, “I’m gonna make a little announcement to the class about it when we get in, but I wanted to talk to you first, about something else.”

“Right. Sato. The police have already been told everything, it’s public knowledge now. Look, I wanted to apologize to---”

“Save that, I don’t fuckin’ blame you,” Fuyuhiko shook his head, “I just wanted to ask what was up with Sato right now.”

Mahiru blinked in confusion. Somehow, that was a better reaction than she had gotten from Hajime or Peko for her involvement, and it was from FUYUHIKO!?

“I-I’m sorry?” she stuttered, “What do you mean you don’t blame me?”

Fuyuhiko shrugged, “Don’t make a big deal out of it. I’ve seen the reports, I know you fessed up, despite your name being kept out of it. There was stuff in the police report that only you coulda known, after all.”

Mahiru gulped. So it was obvious, huh.

“Well then…” the photographer sighed, “Thank you for that, Fuyuhiko. I… don’t really know what to say otherwise, I guess. I’m just sorry this whole mess revolved around me.”

“It’s whatever. We’re classmates, right? Don’t fuckin’ stress over it. That said, though, if I ever get my hands on Sato…”

Fuyuhiko trailed off, but he didn’t need to finish. Mahiru knew the connotation.

“Hasn’t enough blood been spilled already?” she tried weakly.

“Tch,” the yakuza scoffed, “There’s been more blood than you know. And there will be more. That’s what happens when you fuck with my family.”

With that, the short boy left, heading towards the main course building. Mahiru inwardly remarked how strange it was to see him walking to school without Peko at his side. Before the incident, she had always seen the two of them walking together, but had thought little of it. Now that she knew the truth, however, it was strange to see the boy without her.

“He still thinks she’s dead…” she thought sadly as she began to follow behind him, “It’s been days. I know Peko needs time to herself, but this feels cruel…”

Her troubled thoughs continued as the two made their way into their classroom. Mahiru had no current intention of breaking her promise to Peko, but after all the pain that Sato had caused Fuyuhiko, as well as Mahiru’s role in it all, she couldn’t help but feel indebted to him. As though he deserved to know, to hear it from her.

“If he asks me, I’ll tell him,” she decided, “Peko said the same. For now, let’s see what the day brings…”

“Yo,” Fuyuhiko waved to their assembled classmates when he walked in.

“Hey, wassup Baby Gangsta!” Akane waved, “Long time no see! What’s up?”

“Stop calling me that,” Fuyuhiko replied reflexively, “And I’ll get into what’s up in a bit. I have something I wanna say to the whole class once everybody’s here.”

“Finally, the prodigal son returns,” Ibuki said, “Now we just need Peko back before things start feeling normal around here again.”

Fuyuhiko flinched, teeth gritting at the musician’s comment. Thankfully, he didn’t notice the worried look that he received from Mahiru, Mikan, and Teruteru in unison, before the trio glanced at each other. Out of the corner of her eye, Mahiru also noticed Gundham and Kazuichi exchange a sad glance.

“How nice it would be to have everyone back again,” Sonia sighed, wistful.

“Perhaps it would behoove us to make comment on that after Fuyuhiko finishes what he has to say,” Gundham sighed, “If it pleases you, Dark Lady.”

Sonia cocked an eyebrow at the breeder, but nodded politely.

“Does he know?” Mahiru wondered, observing Fuyuhiko give Gundham a thankful nod, “Which one of us would have told him? Or did Fuyuhiko tell him?”

“Good morning, class!” the chipper voice of Chisa Yukizome, accompanied by the door sliding open, indicated that homeroom had begun. The former Ultimate Housekeeper strode confidently into the room, slapping her attendance board onto the podium at the front. Her eyes immediately fell to Fuyuhiko.

“Oh, you’re back!” she exclaimed, “Good to see you here today, Fuyuhiko.”

The yakuza nodded, “If it’s fine with you, I have something to say to everybody before we start homeroom.”

The teacher nodded, “Of course you ca--”

She cut off, the look of realization crossing her face denoting that she knew what the speech would be about. She was, of course, privy to Peko’s secret as well, but she was under oath of silence.

Fuyuhiko nodded, making his way to the front of the class, “Good. This shouldn’t take too long, but I do need everybody’s attention.”

“This had better be good,” Hiyoko groaned, before being shushed by Nekomaru.

“I’ll start off by saying,” Fuyuhiko began, uncomfortable, “In case any of you were unaware, my family is one of, if not the, biggest yakuza groups in Japan. We have a lot of connections and resources, and therefore, a lot of enemies. As the heir, my protection was a top priority, enough so to warrant a bodyguard.”

“Bodyguard?” Akane glanced around, “But you’ve never had any of those.”

“Not that you knew of. But I did always have a bodyguard, one that’s been with me my entire life. She didn’t have the best… people skills, so I ordered her to act like a normal high school student while she was here, but… you all knew her.”

Gundham nodded encouragingly as the yakuza began to trail off. Fuyuhiko cleared his throat before continuing.

“It was Peko. She was my bodyguard, ever since we were kids. We grew up together.”

The silence that filled the room was not one of shock, despite what several members of the class were expecting.

“Oh, that’s what it was?” Ibuki yawned, “And here Ibuki was hoping for something juicy…”

“Yeah, we kinda figured there was something going on between you two,” Nekomaru nodded, “We assumed it was romantic, so we didn’t pry, but that makes sense.”

Fuyuhiko blanched, looking around frantically, “You’re fucking kidding me! You knew!?”

“Well,” Mahiru said, thinking quickly to give herself a cover, “We weren’t sure, but she did always stick by you all the time.”

Several more members of the class nodded. Fuyuhiko sighed, shaking his head in exasperation.

“Well shit. I have one more thing to tell you, and this one actually should come as a shock to all but two of you. Gundham and Kazuichi already know, but I should fill everybody else in. If you don’t know, my sister Natsumi was the reserve course student that got murdered a few days ago. That’s why I’ve been out.”

Ryota looked up from his drawing tablet, “Oh, I wasn’t aware. I’m… sorry for your loss.”

Fuyuhiko shook his head at the chubby boy, “It’s gonna get a lot worse, give me a sec. Since she was coming to Hope’s Peak, Peko was supposed to be, well, bodyguarding Natsumi too. But since our dad didn’t know how Hope’s Peak really worked, he didn’t know that that was impossible. When Natsumi died, he took it out on Peko.”

“Oh dear,” Sonia said, “She isn’t hurt, is she?”

“She…” Fuyuhiko looked down, “She’s… dead, actually.”

This time, the silence in the room was, in fact, a shocked one. Gundham and Kazuichi just nodded sadly, already being privy. Mahiru, Teruteru, and Yukizome did their best to act shocked, some to a better degree than others, and Mikan’s natural trembling was enough already. The rest of their class, however, was absolutely incredulous.

“Bullshit!” Akane exclaimed, rising from her seat angrily, “Peko’s way stronger than that! She couldn’t’a been killed!”

“Peko… had a crap sense of honor and dignity,” Fuyuhiko shook his head ruefully, “I think she let it happen, as her idea of payment.”

“Dammit,” Nekomaru sighed, “She was such a good athlete…”

“How unfortunate,” Nagito muttered, “An ultimate falling because of the death of a reserve course student… what’s this world coming to?”

“This can’t be!” Ryota stood up, suddenly more alert and focused than Mahiru had ever seen him, “Did you see her body? Are you sure?”

“I didn’t see her body,” Fuyuhiko responded, “But my asshole dad wouldn’t have lied about that. He’s the one that did her in, he said so himself.”

“You aren’t still at home, are you?” Yukizome asked, eyes full of concern, “That can’t be a good environment for you right now…”

“Nah, I got the hell outta there the same night it went down. I’ve been staying with Gundham and his mom.”

The breeder nodded, “Indeed, he has taken up temporary residence in my dark castle while out forces gather. That is the true purpose of this rallying call.”

Ibuki wiped away the soaplike bubbled that had begun to form around her mouth, “Whadda ya mean, rallying call? What gives?”

“I’m here to ask for you guys’ help,” Fuyuhiko sighed, “Not as a yakuza, not as an ultimate, but as Peko’s family. I’m gonna rip that son of a bitch off his high horse and I. Will. Fucking. End. Him. But I can’t do it alone.”

Hiyoko blinked, “Sorry, you’re asking us to go to war with the yakuza? Who do you think you’re calling on here?”

The boy shook his head, “Relax, I’m only asking you to help out in any way you can. I know Akane and Nekomaru are probably itching for a fight, and Gundham has already volunteered his animals, but the rest of you can just help out in any way you can. That means, generally, rumors.”

“How do you mean?” Mahiru asked.

“Face goes a long way in the yakuza business. Reputation, you know, shit like that. If rumors start going around that he killed a kid, which, you know, he did, some of his allies will start to pull away. Once he’s vulnerable, we sweep in, and put me at the Kuzuryu head in his place.”

“I hope you aren’t implying that we kill him,” Ryota looked troubled.

“Of course I’m not,” Fuyuhiko replied with a glint in his eye, “I’m gonna be the one to kill that motherfucker. You guys just need to get me to him.”

The class fell to silence at that, each of them sharing glances with one another as they mulled it over.

“Well, count me in,” Akane said, “I agree, bastard killed one of our friends. That can’t go unpunished.”

“Agreed,” Nekomaru nodded, “I don’t know if I agree with killing him, but I would like to see him get his just desserts.”

“Students,” Yukizome said with a warning tone, “I advise you not to be hasty in your decisions here. This isn’t just the usual shenanigans that go on here at Hope’s Peak, this is the real deal. Don’t throw yourself into this if you’re uncomfortable.”

“I suppose Ibuki can write and perform a song about it,” the musician nodded, “Should attract some attention. I won’t be much help otherwise, though.”

“I-in that case, I don’t know how much use I’d be…” Ryota sat down timidly, “I mean, I’m just an animator… so…”

“Yeah,” Hiyoko nodded, “And somehow I don’t see traditional dance coming into play here. Sorry.”

“I-if any of you get hurt, of course I’ll patch you up, b-but…” Mikan whimpered, “I’m s-sorry… I’m not much h-help…”

Chiaki looked up from her game for the first time, “If you guys want my help, I’ll help, but I don’t know what I’d be able to do…”

Nagito nodded, “That goes for me, too. Even though it’s pitiful as a talent, you guys can use my luck any time you need it.”

“I would be pleased to lend my services!” Sonia clapped her hands together, “The kingdom of Novoselic is at your service, Fuyuhiko!”

“That will… certainly be helpful,” the short boy chuckled.

“If Miss Sonia’s in, I am too!” Kazuichi exclaimed, “I can build whatever we’ll need, just leave it to me!”

“And I have already pledged my dark armies to this noble cause,” Gundham nodded.

“I dunno what I’d be able to do…” Teruteru said, “I’m just a chef, after all…”

“And I’m just a photographer,” Mahiru agreed, “I don’t see much merit in me helping out, but I guess I can pitch in if you need me.”

“Actually, Mahiru,” Fuyuhiko smiled at her, “I think I know exactly how you can help out.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peko opened her bleary eyes that afternoon, yawning. She didn’t recall settling in for a nap, but the aches from her healing body had kept her up late the previous night, so she wasn’t surprised. She sighed, reaching up and removing the open copy of the Order of the Phoenix from her face, where it had fallen. She had lost her page, she noticed.

“Hey, you’re awake,” she heard Hajime’s voice from her side. She looked down to find him sitting down in front of the couch, munching on a grilled cheese sandwich on the coffee table.

“How long was I asleep?” she asked, looking at the clock on the wall.

“Not too long, I’m just back from school early today. Teacher took the day off, so I’m here for today.”

Peko nodded, sitting up and rubbing her eyes, Hajime held out a second plate of grilled cheese, which she accepted gratefully.

“You feeling any better at all today?” the boy asked as Nozomu jumped up on the couch at Peko’s feet.

The swordswoman nodded, “Yes, the swelling has finally gone down in my hand, and Mikan says she can take the tube out of my chest in the morning. I don’t know what she puts in her dressings, but they seem to do a good job.”

Peko suppressed a giggle as Nozomu began batting at Hajime’s ahoge with his paws. Hajime just sighed, attempting to ignore the cat.

“Man, you are just plowing through those books, huh?” he asked, looking at the pile of finished volumes that Peko had amassed, “I’ll have to find you another series you enjoy if you're gonna keep working through them this fast.”

Peko blushed slightly, “Ah, well, yes, I have been enjoying them. They pass the time, and I have never really read for pleasure before now. But you don’t have to go to the trouble of buying any more just for me.”

Hajime shrugged, “It’s fine. Since we’re splitting rent now anyways, I’ve got some pocket change. And if you’ve worked through four and a half of them in the week you’ve been staying here, you’ll need more pretty soon.”

“I have been meaning to ask you,” Peko began uncertainly as she reached down to scratch at Nozomu’s ears, “Not that I’m in any way complaining, of course, but… why would you open your home to me like this? I mean, we were strangers when you pulled me off the street.”

Hajime sighed, “I guess that’s a fair question. To tell you the truth, it probably has something to do with Natsumi.”

“Natsumi? How so?”

“If you didn’t know Natsumi, and actually were a complete stranger, I probably would have insisted you go to the hospital, or maybe stay with Mahiru or Mikan. But, since we were both close to her when she was alive… I feel a sort of kinship with you, if that makes sense.”

“I see…” Peko replied after a few moments, “I suppose I know what you mean. Natsumi was not quick to deem people acceptable, but she was stalwart in her affections once she did.”

“Does that make us special or something?” Hajime chuckled.

“Perhaps,” Peko smiled back.

A few moments of comfortable silence filled the room, as the pair ate and simply enjoyed one another’s quiet company.

“And what about this one?” Peko gestured to Nozomu, who had now trapped Hajime’s ahoge between his paws and was licking it excitedly, “Why have you let him in?”

“You asked,” Hajime laughed, “That’s good enough for me, that and your promise to pay for him. If he’s not causing me any problems, which he isn’t, I have no objections to him staying here. Besides, he catches mice.”

Nozomu’s expression was proud, as if he could understand what the two were discussing.

“It won’t be too lonely for you when we’re gone, will it?” Peko asked. Even though she had only known him for a week, Hajime had already grown into a close friend, and she knew that he lived in this apartment alone most of the time.

Hajime’s expression fell, “Oh. Uhm, no… It won’t be too bad. When do you think you’ll be fit to leave, roughly?”

Peko thought for a few seconds, “Well, Mikan said she recommended at least two more weeks of bedrest. Today is Febuary 1st, right? Then I should be getting out of your hair by the fifteenth.”

Hajime nodded solemnly, seemingly satisfied with her answer in a sad way, which piqued Peko’s interest.

“Is there… something going on soon that I should not be here for?” she tried.

Hajime’s eyes widened, “Oh! Um, not really…”

She could tell he was lying, he wasn’t exceptionally good at it. Still, she decided she shouldn’t pry.

“Though I suppose I will miss the company,” Hajime sighed, “It’s been nice having somebody to talk to besides the echo chamber of my own head.” 

Peko nodded slowly. Nozomu cocked his head at Hajime, the good eye seeming like it was staring into the frizzy-haired boy’s soul. The swordswoman could tell there was internal conflict behind her friend’s eyes, but she shelved that information for a later date.

The chiming of Hajime’s phone caught her attention. He dug it out of his pocket and flicked it on, frowning at the screen.

“What is it?” she asked.

“My landlord. Apparently he wants rent early this month. Groceries this week are gonna be sparse…”

Peko blinked, “Hajime, you work two different jobs, one for two nights a week, and another all day on both of the days of the weekend. I find it difficult to believe that funds are an issue for you. What other expenses do you have?”

“Hope’s Peak, mainly. They only require tuition twice a year, sure, but I have to save up a good percentage of what I make each month to even make a dent, and that’s with student loans. If I wanna stay a student, I have to budget pretty intensely. That’s why your contribution to rent has been such a godsend to me.”

“...and yet, here you are, 11 am on a Friday, at home because your teacher couldn’t be bothered with showing up. If the reserve course’s prices are really that exorbitant, why not just transfer to a different high school? Or join the workforce full-time?”

Hajime sighed, not immediately responding. He seemed to be mulling something over in his head. Both Peko and Nozomu looked at him intently.

“I know it seems stupid,” he eventually said, “But… I’m still sorta clinging to the hope of getting into the main course. I have a plan, more of one than most students, that could get me there, but… it’s not all fine and dandy. It’s tough to explain, and I don’t really feel like getting into it right now.”

“You believe you have unrecognized talent?” Peko asked, mulling over what ultimate talents might make sense for Hajime. Counselor? Therapist? Confidant? Advisor? He was a good person to talk to when in a dilemma.

“Wouldn’t it be nice,” he replied ruefully, “But… it’s more complicated than that. Sorry.”

Quickly, Hajime stood and gathered up their two plates, carrying them over to the sink to wash them. Peko and Nozomu shared a look.

“What is that boy hiding?” Peko asked the cat, “I don’t suppose you know, do you?”

Nozomu just licked his own nose in response.

Giggling slightly, Peko caressed the cat’s chin.

“Oh well,” she whispered, “We’ll find out if he tells us, I suppose.”

The cat jumped down from the couch, walking over to the TV table in the corner. He hopped up onto it, and then hopped behind it, into the small triangle of space between the table and TV. After a few moments, Nozomu reemerged, looking at Peko expectantly.

“What?” she asked, “I can’t go over there to play with you, my ribs are still broken.”

With one final glance behind the TV, Nozomu hopped down and back over into Peko’s arms.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“It won’t be good after 8 am tomorrow,” the tall man said, “You have to make your move before then.”

“I know, Juzo,” Chisa reassured, looking down at the keycard he had given her, “I won’t let Kyozuke down.”

Juzo sighed, “Yeah, yeah, just make sure you don’t get yourself killed in the process, okay?”

“Oh, don’t worry about me, I can handle myself. Anything in particular I should be looking for that you’ve heard of?”

Juzo shrugged, “Not sure. The headmaster and the trustees are all up in a bunch about something they’re just calling ‘the project’, but that could easily mean any old normal school crap. Supposedly it’s going down soon, though.”

Chisa nodded, “I’ll keep my eyes out. You should get back to your office before somebody misses you.”

“Good luck.”

“You too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Man, it feels good to give Hajime and Peko a break. Also yes, Nozomu is going to be somewhat plot-relevant, he's not just here to be adorable, though he will be doing that as well.


	12. Realization

“Tell me, boy,” Masayoshi grunted, “You haven’t been at the house for a week. Why now do you call me to meet here?”

“Call it venting my frustration,” Fuyuhiko replied, straightening his gi and fastening the blue belt across his midriff. Since he was a child, his father had demanded he attend karate lessons in the dojo in which they now both stood.

Masayoshi smiled, tying his red belt around his own midriff, “If getting your face beaten in means venting your anger, boy, I’m happy to oblige.”

Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes, “Yeah yeah, whatever. Come at me, old man. I’m gonna teach you why you shouldn’t’a fucked with Peko the way you did.”

In the corner, Fukuda rubbed the bridge of his nose, “Is this truly necessary, masters? I understand there is strife between you, but---”

“It’s completely necessary, Fukuda,” Masayoshi cracked his knuckles fiercely, “I gotta teach my boy some fuckin’ obedience at some point anyway, might as well be now.”

The swordsman rolled his eyes, “Very well, I suppose. I shall officiate this match, as there are no others present. Fighters at the ready.”

Fuyuhiko sank into an offensive position, while Masayoshi squared up defensibly.

“Begin.”

Fuyuhiko leapt at his father, crying out as his fist soared towards the man’s head. He ducked, lithe for his age, and rammed a fist into Fuyuhiko’s stomach in return. The boy coughed and staggered backwards, but sent a kick that grazed Masayoshi’s chin.

“Not bad,” Masayoshi chuckled, rubbing his chin, “But you lack muscle.”

Fuyuhiko didn’t respond, instead sending a double punch upwards in an attempt at an uppercut. Masayoshi weaved out of the way, flipping Fuyuhiko’s legs out from under him with a swipe of one of his own. Fuyuhiko groaned as he got to his feet, Masayoshi backing up a few feet and leering at him tauntingly.

“You have a ways to go before you can beat me, Fuyuhiko,” the oyabun smirked, “You’re young and stupid. That’s why I killed that weak girl, she filled you with too much sentiment.”

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Fuyuhiko cried, launching himself towards the man in anger. Masayoshi again weaved out of the way, catching Fuyuhiko’s arm and slamming him into the ground. Spittle went flying as Fuyuhiko’s air was knocked clean out of him.

“That should keep you quiet while I instruct you,” Masayoshi chuckled, grabbing the fallen boy by the material of his gi before slamming a fist into his face again.

“The round is over!” Fukuda exclaimed, “He can no longer---”

“Piss off, Fukuda,” Masayoshi leered at the swordsman, “I’m not done with him yet.”

Fukuda blanched somewhat, but obediently backed up. The oyabun turned back to Fuyuhiko’s crumpled form and rested a foot against the young man’s throat.

“Understand yet, boy?” he asked, “You disobey me, you get hurt. You let your emotions get in the way, you get hurt. You give a rat’s ass about anybody except yourself, you get hurt.”

Fuyuhiko just coughed. Masayoshi moved his foot to the boy’s stomach, stomping down hard. What little air Fuyuhiko still held in his lungs was launched out, and he had to fight to keep the contents of his stomach from rocketing upwards as well. He collapsed into a wheezing and coughing mess, clutching his stomach in a fetal position as Masayoshi stalked off towards the changing room.

“Shall I be expecting you home for dinner then?” Masayoshi smirked over his shoulder.

“Fuck you,” Fuyuhiko thought, but didn’t have the air to say. Masayoshi disappeared into the changeroom before he could do anything with his oxygen more than cough it up again.

“Are you alright, young master?” Fukuda asked, leaning down to inspect Fuyuhiko’s injuries. Fuyuhiko just shook him off. Fukuda sighed, “What was the point of this? A karate duel? Your father is two belt levels above you. You were never going to win, you were lucky to graze him.”

“I have my reasons,” Fuyuhiko wheezed, struggling to his feet, “None that I need to tell you. Now go back to your master like the whipped lapdog you are. At least I have the guts to go against him. Peko was your student, too.”

Fukuda’s face turned to anger, “Yes, Peko was my student,, and my loyalty to the oyabun does not mean I do not mourn her, or even that I think her death was needed. However, your father is the head of the family, and what he says goes. You would do well to remember that.”

“Won’t be the head of the family for very long.”

Fukuda raised an eyebrow, “Need I concern myself with that threat?”

“Only if you care about being on the right side.”

Masayoshi emerged from the changeroom, gi tucked under the arm of his pinstriped three-piece, wearing a smug grin that made Fuyuhiko’s anger feel boiling hot.

“Oh good,” the oyabun said, “He’s not dead. And, he managed to keep from spoiling the mat with puke or blood. That's an improvement off of what happened in my office last week.”

Fuyuhiko just spat at his father at that.

“Very mature.”

“Fuck you, asshole. At least I had the guts to come here.”

“Guts don’t mean shit, kid. Not if you don’t have the follow-through for it. Your sister understood that. I’m startin’ to wish I pulled some strings to get her into the main course instead of you, that way you’d be pushing up daisies instead of her.”

“Oh, you BAST--”

Fukuda’s sword blocked Fuyuhiko from charging his father yet again, whose smug expression was just all the more goading.

“Not the time, young master,” the swordsman shook his head.

“Leave the runt here, Fukuda,” Masayoshi called as he walked out of the dojo, “We have work to attend to.”

Fukuda cast a worried glance towards Fuyuhiko, which was returned with an indignant scoff.

“Just piss off,” the yakuza boy said. Fukuda sighed, patting him on his shoulder before following the oyabun out of the garden, where they had a car waiting.

Fuyuhiko waited about a minute after the car pulled away, and also until he had enough air to yell, before shouting, “Alright, come on out! They’re gone, it’s just me now!”

To the left of the entrance, a large clump of bushes rustled, before a girl popped out of them, looking rather disturbed.

“Was all that really necessary, Fuyuhiko?” Mahiru asked, “or is the only way you boys know how to resolve your anger issues with violence?”

“Yeah, yeah,” Fuyuhiko waved her off, “Did you get what we needed?”

The photographer nodded, handing him a bunch of polaroids, still warm off the camera’s internal press. Fuyuhiko never thought the still images of his father beating the hell out of him mercilessly would make him so satisfied.

“These are perfect,” he nodded.

Mahiru rolled her eyes, “Care to actually explain why you wanted me to take pictures of your dad beating you up? I know you’re going after him, but what was the point of this?”

“Remember what I said about rumors and reputation in the yakuza? Well, this type of shit is exactly what most people prefer to keep under wraps. Sure, yakuza and crime organizations are generally more brutal than most, but child abuse doesn’t sit well with anybody.”

Mahiru mouthed an ‘oh’ as she realized what he was getting at, “I get it, I think. So you’re gonna use these in the smear campaign?”

“Oh yeah. Once these get out, a lot of my dad’s hired security and shit is gonna want nothing to do with him. Also, as an added bonus, since these pictures make me look like a victim, they’ll all come running back to me once he’s gone since they’ll think I’m manipulate-able.”

The photographer raised an eyebrow at him, “You… want them to think that?”

Fuyuhiko shrugged, “It’s just politics. Getting their signatures on some contracts is what really matters, I can act weak until that happens. Once they’re under my thumb, I start crackin’ down, and they’re stuck with me.”

“Sounds… bleak.”

“Were you expecting tea parties? Also, damn, this lighting is good for my face, even when it’s getting punched. What’s your secret, girl?”

Mahiru smiled, “Exposure, resolution, and shadow tampering. Everybody’s complexion has a golden sweet spot, and I have everybody in class’s memorized by now.”

“I’m impressed. You’ll have to show me sometime.”

Mahiru thought for a moment before shaking her head, “No, I don’t think I will.”

“Hey! Why not?”

“Because if I’m the only one who can make you look that good in a photo, you’ll have to come back to me. And in the future, that means cash, Mr. Yakuza heir.”

Fuyuhiko laughed, “You are ruthless, Mahiru Koizumi.”

The photographer shrugged with a smile, “It’s just politics.”

~~~~~~~~~~

Hajime was struggling to stay awake. His shift at McDonald’s had been absolutely brutal that Saturday, and after eight hours of dealing with the combined shit of the customers, his manager and his coworkers, he wanted nothing more than to get home, collapse onto his bed, and die.

That overwhelming fatigue was forgotten about five seconds after he walked into his apartment, which is how long it took for him to register the scene before him.

“Peko?” he asked, eyes locked onto the uncharacteristically sheepish girl, “As nice as it is to see you up and about… this may or may not constitute animal abuse.”

Indeed, in Peko’s arms and struggling feebly against the fabric prison was Nozomu, dressed up in a tiny, cat-sized maid outfit. While Peko was looking upon her handiwork with nothing short of reverence, the cat was clearly having none of it.

“Oh, come now,” Peko laughed, “Is he not precious?”

“Precious or not, he does not look happy,” Hajime smiled as Nozomu finaly escaped Peko’s embrace and ran off into the corner to writhe against the costume’s confines.

“Miss Yukizome came by to check on me again earlier this afternoon,” Peko explained, “She brought along that as a gift, and, well…”

“You couldn’t resist, could you?” Hajime laughed as Nozomu finally conquered the ribbon on his back freeing himself of the outfit.

“Not even slightly,” Peko responded as Nozomu shot her a glare before hopping up onto the couch, “How was your shift?”

“Ugh, don’t remind me,” Hajime sighed as he walked through to the kitchen, grabbing himself an orange juice, “Just feed me good news instead. I see you’re finally on your feet again.”

The swordswoman nodded, “Yes, Mikan informed me that I could walk around without endangering my ribs any longer. Bending over is still painful, but the healing process is well underway.”

Hajime eyed her, “Penny for your thoughts? You seem troubled about something.”

Peko blinked, “Oh, it’s nothing serious. Just that Mikan, Teruteru, and Yukizome all visited me today, and every single one of them was acting much more on edge than usual. Like they were avoiding telling me something.”

Hajime thought for a moment, “Well, it’s not like we can ask them now. Have you eaten dinner yet?”

Peko shook her head, “I was actually thinking I would cook today. I’m on my feet now, and you’ve been catering to me all week, so it’s only the proper thing to do.”

Hajime opened his mouth to object, but at the prospect of another responsibility, his fatigue returned like a train crashing through an opera house.

“You know what? Sure,” he smiled, “Normally, I would insist, but with the day I’ve had, I could really use a break. Thanks, Peko.”

“No problem at all. Any preferences?”

“Nah, just go nuts.”

As Peko walked past him, Hajime noticed something he had never noticed before. Off of her hair came flowing a distinct flowery scent, despite him now owning any flowery-scented hygeine products that he knew of. He shook his head, banishing the thought for the time being, before settling down onto the couch beside Nozomu. The cat looked somewhat triumphant, having defeated the costume that Peko had subjected him to, and Hajime chuckled as he rubbed the fluffy belly presented to him. 

After a few minutes of browsing the internet, an intense, savoury aroma began to permeate the apartment. Both Hajime and Nozomu perked up at the distinct scent of fish.

“Smells good,” he remarked to Peko, “What are you making?”

“Just a simple haddock recipe with a raw greens salad,” she replied, “Nothing I haven’t made before for the Kuzuryus.”

“The Kuzuryus were eating well,” he thought as he glanced through the doorway to the kitchen. Peko was standing over a pan, flipping a hunk of haddock with the same precision and grace as Hajime assumed she would arc a blade through the air. Her hair, which was usually strung up in bows or let down completely, was pulled back into a long ponytail, reaching the small of her back. With that, plus the apron tied around her neck and waist, and the intent gleam in her eyes as she worked, she looked…

“Beautiful…” Hajime whispered involuntarily.

“Did you say something?” she asked.

“N-no!” he exclaimed a bit too quickly, forcing the many, many thoughts that followed away from his mind.

“Where did that come from?” he wondered, turning back to look at Peko again through the doorway, “Are my teenage hormones just acting up? Peko’s my friend, I’ve never thought of her that way before! I mean yeah, she’s a really attractive girl, and yeah, I really like her personality, and yeah, the way her eyes light up whenever she reads or plays with Nozomu is really cute, but I don’t--- oh, fuck, I have a crush on her, don’t I?”

Peko noticed him staring at her through the doorway and caught his gaze with a slight smile that made his heart skip a few beats, “Is paprika really the only spice you own that isn’t salt and pepper?”

Hajime could just shrug at her. He was a little busy processing.

“Oh, never mind!” her voice came again, “I found some thyme. Why was it behind the peanut butter and not in the spice cabinet?”

“S-sorry!” he replied after a second or two, “Must have mixed it up when I got groceries a few days ago!”

He shook his head, desperately trying to clear it. Nozomu hopped up on the couch beside him, head cocked to the side curiously.

“Pull yourself together, man,” he told himself, “She’s an ultimate! You’re just a reserve course student! She’s miles out of your league! Why are you even thinking this stuff? Knowing you, it’s gonna get blurted out, and everything is gonna be ruined! We live together right now, that would make things so awkward!”

Nozomu’s stare pierced Hajime’s desperate attempt at suppression, almost conveying the message of “Don’t bullshit yourself buddy, you’ve got it bad.”

“Oh, well what do you know?” Hajime asked the cat, “You’re just a cat.”

Nozomu just began licking his fur in response.

“It’s ready!” came Peko’s call. Hajime bolted up from his seat, startling Nozomu in the process.

“‘C-coming!”

As Hajime walked through to the dining room, Peko was already setting the places. Two steaming platters of glistening haddock and fresh veggie salad sat on either end, giving off an irresistible aroma. As he sat down, Hajime registered two things. First, that this would be their first time eating dinner at the dining table together, since before now, Peko hadn’t been able to move around enough. Secondly, his dining table was way smaller than he remembered it being.

“It’s not much, but it should taste good,” Peko said as she took her seat across from him. Hajime desperately tried to suppress the heat in his face as their legs lightly touched under the table.

“It certainly smells the part already,” he remarked, “Thanks for the food!”

With that, he began shoveling fish into his mouth to protect himself from blurting something out due to his own absolute incompetence in social skills. However, he couldn’t help but stop to savour the flavour, which was, in fact, delicious. He hadn’t even been aware that his kitchen possessed the capability to produce something this good, yet here it was.

“How is it?” she asked.

“Really good,” he replied, starting in on the veggie salad, “I needed the energy, work was rough today.”

Peko’s slight giggle sent happy little chills throughout all of Hajime’s body, “I can tell. The only time I’ve ever seen someone eat so fast is when I made Fuyuhiko fried dough cookies for his birthday.”

The pair finished eating in relative silence, only noticing after they had cleaned their plates how Nozomu was staring up at them from the floor expectantly.

“Ah yes, It’s time for your supper, too,” Peko scratched the cat below the chin, “I’ll take care of that, too. You go relax, Hajime.”

“You sure?” he asked.

She nodded, “Of course, I might as well after spending all day reading.”

Hajime smiled at her, “Alright then, I’m gonna go hit the shower. Call me if you need anything, and don’t push yourself, yeah? This is still your first day on your feet.”

Peko nodded at him, and he continually failed to silence the butterflies in his stomach as he made his way to the bathroom.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

As soon as Hajime was gone, Peko made a beeline for the kitchen sink and splashed some cold water onto her face.

“What’s gotten into me?” she thought, “What is this… emotion? So strange… it’s like all the pain just faded away…”

Peko hadn’t expected to offer to cook that night. The offer had just come rushing forth after she noticed how fatigued Hajime was. She wasn’t sure how, but she could tell his day had been tiring as soon as he walked through the door, and she wanted to…

“...make him smile,” she finished out loud. Hajime’s smile whenever someone did something nice for him was so raw and fresh. It was like he didn’t expect even the slightest kindness, and was genuinely shocked every time someone thought of him.

“I must be fatigued myself,” she rationalized, “Otherwise my mind would not be playing tricks on me like this. I’m not sure what to call this feeling, it’s probably just a side effect of the healing process in my body. Yes, that must be it.”

Nozomu pawed at her leg, staring up at her curiously.

“Yes, right,” she said, “Your dinner. I’m sorry.”

At the word ‘dinner’, the cat scampered off into the living room, where his food bowl had been set down. Peko scooped up a cup of the dried food she had sent Hajime to buy (plus a few scraps of extra haddock, because she loved that cat) and went out to present it. Entering the living room, she was surprised to not find Nozomu sitting beside his bowl.

“Where have you gone off to?” she asked.

Nozomu hopped up from behind the tv table, striding over towards her, excited. She petted him a little on the back as she poured the dinner into his bowl, which he happily began to much on.

“You’ve taken a liking to that space behind the TV,” she said, “Is there something back there?”

Out of curiosity, she peered over into the small, triangular space the table made against the wall because of the angle. Aside from a mess of wires leading out from the TV and blu-ray player, all that was back there was a small, white envelope that must have gotten blown behind it by a gust from the window.

Assuming the envelope to be trash, Peko picked it up to toss it in a can. However, she noticed the insignia of Hope’s Peak on the outside of the letter poking out. Her curiosity piqued, she unfolded it to find a brief letter addressed to Hajime from…

“The headmaster?” she wondered aloud, “Do those two know each other?”

The letter itself was small and concise, it didn’t take her long to read it. She wasn’t a nosy person, in fact, she read it mostly by accident on her way over to the trash bin.

“The project?” she asked nobody in particular, “What project?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 2 chapters in a day, I am spoiling you all. I was just too excited to write fluff. We've finally reached it.
> 
> Since this was a double day, you may or may not get a chapter tomorrow. Not that I wouldn't want to work on one, just that I have five classes tomorrow and I might just not find the time for it. We'll see though, my writing bug is relentless, after all.


	13. Pleas

Fuyuhiko had been plotting against and actively antagonizing the oyabun of the most powerful yakuza group in Japan for the better part of two weeks, so he couldn’t say he was exactly surprised to wake up one night with a sword at his throat. 

“The fuck are you waiting for?” he asked the masked warrior standing beside his bed in the guest room of Gundham’s house, “Do it, asshole.”

“Had I been sent here on official orders, I would,” the voice responded, “But you can call this a personal mission.”

Fuyuhiko’s eyebrow twitched at the familiarity of the voice, “Fukuda?”

The figure nodded, taking his sword away from Fuyuhiko’s throat and unwrapping the cloth obscuring his face. Fukuda looked tired and haggard as he sheathed his blade.

“How the hell did you find me?” Fuyuhiko asked.

“I never lost you,” Fukuda replied simply, “I tailed you all the way here the night you left, and have been keeping tabs on you ever since. I’ll have you know that I dispatched several assassins over the past few weeks.”

Fuyuhiko blinked, “Assassins? Who sent them?”

“Anyone’s guess. You’re the heir to the Kuzuryu family, I’m appalled that you’re even surprised. People want you dead, young master.”

Fuyuhiko thought for a moment, “I take it my father isn’t one of them, based on the fact that my throat is still closed.”

“Correct.”

“Why did you have to wake me up like that, then?”

Fukuda shrugged, “So you wouldn’t scream.”

Fuyuhiko sighed. Fukuda was efficient in all manners of his life, even those that most people would deem questionable. He supposed that waking someone up with a sword to prevent them from screaming due to shock was not something exactly out of the swordsman’s wheelhouse.

“So why are you here then, if not to kill me?”

Fukuda’s expression turned grave, “Over the past few weeks, the oyabun has been dealing with a massive public relations fallout. The source is unknown, but rumors and allegations are spreading like wildfire, and the wolves are beginning to close in. Was this your doing?”

Fuyuhiko smiled, “What if it was?”

“Young master,” the swordsman’s voice was strained, “I understand your anger, believe me, I feel it too. But destroying your own clan from the top down as revenge? That is just petty.”

“So is killing an innocent girl because she couldn’t be in two places at once,” Fuyuhiko spat, “Besides, it’s not like the Kuzuryu family ends with my father, I’ll take his place once the dust clears.”

“Assuming there are any assets and allies left to maintain by that point.”

“That’s a risk I’m willing to take. You know you aren’t going to convince me to lay off, Fukuda, so why are you here, really?”

Fukuda sighed, “Your grief over Peko is what is driving you, yes?”

Fuyuhiko blinked, “Well yeah, obviously. What’s your point?”

“She may not actually be dead.”

Fuyuhiko felt that sentence like a punch to the gut, rocketing all the air out of him.

“...I’m sorry?” he asked slowly, remembering how his father had never showed him her body.

“I don’t know for certain,” Fukuda clarified, “But there is a chance that---”

“Explain yourself, Fukuda,” Fuyuhiko stood, rage flashing in his eyes, “Now. And this damn well better be worth my time.”

“The alleyway where your father punished her,” Fukuda sighed, “I went back to collect her body some time after delivering you home, but there was no body to find.”

Fuyuhiko felt a jolt of shock surge through his system, “No body!? But that means…”

“It’s entirely possible someone found her corpse before I looked,” Fukuda shook his head, “But I’ve been combing the relevant channels, and no report of a girl’s body being found murdered in that alleyway has been filed in any police database since.”

Fuyuhiko thought for a moment, mulling the information over. He knew not to get his hopes up, but they were dangerously surging within him.

“So you think somebody found her and what,” he muttered, “just helped her out of the goodness of their own heart? If she’s alive, why haven’t I seen her? She would have come back to me.”

“Do not take it as given that she lives,” Fukuda sighed, “As I said, it’s entirely possible someone else simply found her corpse and disposed of it, not bothering to contact authorities. Or perhaps I missed something in my searching. But… if she were alive, I believe I know what might keep her away.”

“And what’s that?”

“The same reason she allowed the oyabun to do what he did.”

Fuyuhiko swallowed. The swordsman was correct. Peko always did have a strong sense of duty and dignity, even when it hurt her. If she were to somehow be alive…

“She would think herself dead to me,” he muttered, “She’d exile herself out of shame…”

Fukuda nodded, “It is the same philosophy that has been drilled into her mind since she was a child, as it was with myself. Had I failed to protect you, as Peko failed to protect the young mistress, I would likely exile myself as well, assuming the oyabun did not order me to fall upon my own sword.”

Fuyuhiko thought for a moment, pensive, “Why tell me this? What do you have to gain by giving me this information?”

“I do not wish to see unnecessary patricide, Fuyuhiko, especially within the house that I have been sworn to protect with my life. If my student lives, which I hope she does as much as you, then your motivation for seeking revenge disappears, does it not?”

Fuyuhiko’s gaze darkened, “No. Be Peko alive or dead, that son of a bitch still tried to kill her. That’s enough for me.”

Fukuda observed him for a moment, Fuyuhiko attempting to puff out his chest and stand as tall as he could. Eventually, the swordsman just sighed and shook his head ruefully, sliding the window open and bathing the pair in cool night air.

“I pray that you will reconsider,” he said over his shoulder, “That is all I came here for. If your father learned of your involvement, he would send me to kill you, and I would rather not do that. As such, I will not inform him of your involvement in his current troubles. I apologize for disturbing your sleep.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, deep in thought, “I hope you’ll reconsider too, Fukuda. You’re a loyal servant of my family, and I would hate to lose you in what’s to come.”

Fukuda smiled, “Oh, and tell your photographer friend to invest in a quieter camera. Your father was too preoccupied to notice, but the clicks were plain as day to me.”

With that, Fukuda’s dark clothing melded into the shadows of the early morning outside, leaving Fuyuhiko alone and invigorated by a strange hope he had never expected to feel again.

“Peko, if you really are out there,” he whispered, grabbing the hair bow off of his bedside table and holding it in his palm, “I swear, I’m gonna find you. I’m not gonna let you down again.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peko smiled as she flexed the fingers of her formerly broken hand.

“No, no pain or discomfort,” she said, “It seems to have healed.”

Mikan smiled, nodding softly. She tossed the removed bandages into a nearby trash bin, “That’s g-good to hear… it’s j-just your arm that needs h-healing now…”

Peko nodded, “And I can tell that’s well on its way as well. I haven’t enough medical knowledge to discern what you’ve been doing Mikan, but it’s been working wonders. I must thank you.”

“O-oh, it’s no t-trouble…” the nurse blushed, “I-it’s actually been quite n-nice to tend to a p-patient who is so… well… p-paitent with me…”

Indeed, the healing process had been slow over the past three weeks since Peko had originally been found in the alleyway, and Mikan’s talent had been instrumental in her recovery. Peko had experienced broken bones before, and she knew that even with most hospitals, she would be experiencing remaining issues from her ribs and hand at this point. Although, a small part of Peko was saddened by her speedy recovery, as perhaps the time to leave Hajime’s couch was coming near.

“As for you, Miss Yukizome,” she quickly distracted herself from plunging into that hole of thoughts, turning to the housekeeper who was happily playing with Nozomu in the corner, “This is much earlier than you usually visit. Is there some occasion?”

“Oh no,” Yukizome shook her head, “I just got started early today, figured I would come check on my favourite absentee. And also to visit my perfect little fluffermuffin, isn’t that right Nozie?”

Peko had been around Nozomu long enough to know that most of his mewls as Yukizome “played” with him were those of protest, but he was too adorable to rescue for the time being.

“W-where is Hajime, by the w-way?” Mikan asked, looking around, “H-he’s usually still here when I d-drop by, so we can w-walk to school t-together…”

“Hajime had to go in early today,” Peko replied, “Something that the headmaster wanted to speak to him about.”

Yukizome perked up at that, “The headmaster? Is Hajime in trouble?”

“No, nothing like that, I don’t believe. It probably just has something to do with his plan to get into the main course.”

“Well, if he’s got a working relationship with the headmaster, that’s a pretty good start,” Yukizome chuckled, “How is Hajime, by the way? You two still getting along? No cabin fever, I hope?”

“No, Hajime and I have been getting along fine. Since I’ve been healing, we have begun taking turns cooking dinner and breakfast. He’s been as kind as he’s always been, he even bought me a good supply of books to keep me entertained.”

Yukizome nodded at the rather extensive pile of books beside the couch, almost each and every one a thick volume that would have taken most days to get through on its own. Rowling, Tolkien, Martin, Sanderson, it seemed Peko had a taste for high fantasy.

“So I see,” the housekeeper chuckled, “You know, what with you two living together and all this, if I didn’t know better, I’d assume you two were an item.”

Yukizome’s question had been experimental; a test. She had noticed how Peko and Hajime acted around each other, but she wasn’t certain enough to call it out. It was entirely possible that their personalities just had very prominent platonic synergy, so she wanted to be certain before she said anything explicit. However, Peko’s reaction to this question told her everything she needed to know.

“O-oh,” the swordswoman blushed, looking away, “I-I… didn’t realize that was what it seemed like…”

“That wasn’t even denial,” Yukizome thought, snickering, “At least she’s not a tsundere. So she likes him, and I’m willing to bet he likes her too.”

“I m-mean,” Mikan held a finger to her chin in thought, “You two did g-get a cat together… that’s s-something only couples d-do, at least as f-far as I know…”

Peko blushed even deeper, “W-we never bought him together! He just… well, showed up one day and hasn’t left since.”

Yukizome’s eyebrow twitched in amusement, “So would you say he’s your cat or Hajime’s cat, mostly?”

Peko looked down, clearly trying to hide her flushed cheeks, “Well… I’ve never thought about that before. We both take care of him and all that. I… suppose I’ve always just thought of him as our cat…”

“Alright, that tears it,” Yukizome smiled, “I won’t torment you any more with it, Peko, it’s pretty clear you have feelings for the boy.”

Peko’s eyes widened, her posture shrinking before the teacher’s gaze. Mikan looked confused, glancing towards Peko for confirmation.

“...is it truly that obvious?” the swordswoman asked quietly after a few moments of silence.

Yukizome laughed, “Only if you’ve been teaching a class of high-schoolers for the past two years. Between Kazuichi, Sonia, and Gundham, I’ve made a fine art of spotting crushes from a mile away.”

Peko sighed, burying her face in her hands. Nozomu looked up at her curiously.

“I…” she murmured, “I didn’t even know what it was for the longest time… I just knew that being around him put me at ease… and that I really liked the way he smiles whenever I do even a little thing for him… but after a while, I…”

She trailed off after that. Yukizome smiled and laid a comforting hand on her shoulder.

“Relax,” she reassured, “It’s nothing to be ashamed of. You’re young, he’s young, and you’re both very kind people. It’s natural.”

“It’s too complicated,” Peko shook her head, “I’m almost healed now, and with my injuries go my excuse to stay here… I’ll be returning to Fuyuhiko’s side soon, and I won’t be able to see much of him anymore…”

Yukizome nodded, “I suppose if he’s in the reserve course, it would be tricky, true. But what if you went down to eat lunch with him? Like Mahiru used to do with her friend Sato?”

Peko sighed, “No, my time will be completely devoted to Fuyuhiko again. I… I already let down Natsumi by not being there when she needed me, I cannot risk the same for Fuyuhiko over some childish crush.”

Yukizome furrowed her brow. That certainly did complicate things a bit.

“Well, what if he gets into the main course?” she tried, attempting to raise the swordswoman’s spirits, “He’s in the 77th class of the reserve course, that means he might transfer into 77-b with all of you. And you said he’s meeting with the headmaster about some plan to get into the main course as we speak, right?”

Peko thought for a moment, before nodding slowly, “I don’t know much about his plan to get into the main course. He’s avoided the question enough times for me to stop asking it, I suppose it must be embarrassing or something. I know it has something to do with the headmaster, and that part of it might be tied to something called ‘the project’, but that’s all.”

Yukizome’s heart felt like it stopped beating, her stomach plummeting as she froze.

The project.

The Kamukura Project.

“Oh dear god,” she mumbled involuntarily.

“Is s-something wrong?” Mikan asked, noticing the horrified look on Yukizome’s face.

Yukizome snapped back to her senses, painting a cheerful expression over her face to mask the dread comsuming her, “Oh, no, everything’s fine! I should get you to class by now, Mikan, I wouldn’t want to have us be late!”

“O-okay!”

Peko bid the pair farewell at the door, thankfully not noticing the cesspool of dread that her teacher’s mind had become.

“The Kamukura Project,” she recalled, remembering what she had learned using the stolen trustee’s keycard weeks prior, “An illegal human experiment to create artificial talent, imbuing a host with every known talent that Hope’s Peak has ever researched while erasing any trace of the original persona to make room. When I told Kyosuke about it, we both just assumed it was a dummy file to distract potential snoops like myself, but now…”

The teacher gulped. If Hajime was involved with the project, and viewed it as his way to get into the main course, there was only one thing he could possibly be involved in it for. And if she recalled correctly, the file’s designated start date for the experiment was Febuary sixteenth.

Two days from now.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

“You wanted to see me, sir?” Hajime asked as he entered the reserve course principal’s office. This office was usually occupied by the dean, but it was used by the headmaster whenever the man himself had business with the reserve course.

“Yes,” Jin Kirigiri motioned to a chair in front of the desk, “Mr. Hinata. Please, sit down.”

Hajime nodded, setting his bag down beside the chair and taking a seat, “Is this… about the project?”

Kirigiri sighed, “I’m afraid so.”

“Is something wrong?” 

The headmaster’s face darkened, “The thing that’s wrong, my boy, is how worried you seem to be that it’ll go off without a hitch.”

Hajime blinked, “Well… why wouldn’t I want it to work out?”

Kirigiri sighed, folding his arms in front of him on his desk, “Hajime, I’ve seen your transcripts and report cards. I know you’re a smart kid. You must have read the document before you signed it. That means you know what this project entails.”

Hajime nodded solemnly. He knew.

“So why do you still want to go through with it!?” Kirigiri raised his voice, “That document was specifically written to be confusing and misleading! You’re smart enough to understand it perfectly, yet you still signed it! You’re signing away your life, young man!”

“My life?” Hajime shook his head, “And what’s that worth to you? I’ve seen, hell, I’ve lived how Hope’s Peak views the reserve course. How society sees people without talent. Tell me, in a world like that, what worth does my life hold?”

Kirigiri blinked, “Hajime… what the hell kind of life have you lived that would lead you to think that? That talent is everything?”

“The world you and your kind created, sir,” Hajime’s eyes turned sour, “A world where those with talent are placed on such high pedestals that they can’t see those of us on the ground for the clouds. A world where the only way to even get close to that level without being born special is to climb over a mountain of other ordinary people.”

Kirigiri was speechless. He didn’t have the words to refute the boy on that, as much as he wished that he did.

“My uncle was a Hope’s Peak talent scout,” Hajime sighed, “He used to tell me so many amazing stories about the kids he would find with talent… How amazing they were. How special. That’s why I’m doing this, Kirigiri. I want to be worth something to somebody. I want to be seen as something more than another… face on the street.”

Kirigiri shook his head, deciding to play his hand.

“And what about Peko Pekoyama? Do you think you mean nothing to her?”

Hajime froze.

“Yes, I’m aware of your arrangement,” Kirigiri said, “Miss Yukizome, Peko’s teacher, has been keeping me posted. She’s out of the loop about the project, of course, but it’s interesting that you have an ultimate living with you. Are you really nothing to her?”

Hajime took a few seconds to gather his words, before weakly replying, “I don’t know what I am to her.”

Kirigiri raised an eyebrow, “What do you mean by that?”

Hajime sighed, “I mean… I don’t know. Peko’s an enigma. She’s so modest about everything, so… different to everything I’ve ever known. I don’t know what to make of her. So, I don’t know what she thinks of me.”

“Do you know what you want her to think of you?”

Hajime paused, looking downwards, “I… I want her to… see me as worthy of her….”

“Ah,” Kirigiri thought, “He has feelings for the girl.”

“If that’s the case,” the headmaster said, “Do you think she thinks of you as unworthy right now?”

“I don’t know, okay!?” Hajime exclaimed, standing, “I don’t know what she wants! I… I’m just a reserve course student, I should just be happy she’s kind to me. I want her to see me as… something more than I am right now… something special.”

“And you think an emotionless husk of a person would be more special to her than her friend? Someone who’s been helping her through what is undoubtedly the toughest time in her life for the better part of a month now?”

Hajime fell silent. He didn’t have an answer for that.

“There’s still two days until the project commences,” Kirigiri sighed, “I truly hope you’ll reconsider. Frankly, the project was the idea of the board of directors, it wouldn’t even exist if it were left up to me. It’s… inhuman.”

Hajime grabbed his bag off the floor. Kirigiri couldn’t read his expression, but the boy wouldn't meet his eyes as he left the room.

“What the hell is this world coming to…” he shook his head ruefully, grabbing a bottle of burban off the shelf and pouring himself a glass, “What the hell has this school become?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it turns out I did get a chapter out today. Later than usual, but well, that's what happens when you have five hour-and-a-half-long classes in a day.
> 
> I'm looking to release the final chapter(s) of this fic on Valentine's day, for obvious reasons. That means there might be more double chapter days coming, but I'm on my midterm break as of now anyway, so I can make the time.


	14. Coward

Chisa Yukizome couldn’t believe the words she was reading. She had long since known that Kyosuke Munakata could be cold, but this was just sickening to her.

“No, warning the students, especially the boy, would reveal you. If it’s for the sake of keeping your position within the school intact, and maintaining your cover, the life of one reserve course student is a price I’m willing to pay.”

Slowly, Yukizome closed her email and turned her computer off. Ever so gently, she removed anything breakable from her desk, setting it down on the floor beside her.

The desk’s wooden surface cracked into a shower of splinters as she slammed her fist down onto it, ignoring the sugre of pain and blood beginning to seep from the cut that opened in her knuckles.

“Damn it all…” she murmured, forcing back tears, “Is there nothing that can be done for them?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuyuhiko took a long sip of his energy drink. He’d been woken up rather early that day, after all, he needed the caffeine to get through each moment. Draining the can, he tossed it aside, landing in one of the trash bins that lined the Hope’s Peak fountain. Students, main course and reserve, filed past him one by one. He nodded respectfully whenever he saw one of his own classmates, but he never stopped to speak with them. He was here on a mission, after all.

There was only one person he needed to talk to, and his eyes locked onto her as soon as he noticed her poorly-cut hair bouncing up and down as she hurried into school. 

“Yo, Mikan!” he waved, catching the nurse’s attention.

“F-Fuyuhiko?” she asked, walking over to him, “Is s-something wrong?”

“Nah, not really. I just have a question for ya. Bit of a long shot, but since you do work at the hospital, I figured if anybody would know something, it’d be you.”

Mikan nodded slowly, “W-what is it?”

“Was there ever anybody checked into your hospital because of assault injuries in the past month? Anything that you’ve heard of?”

Mikan blinked, “W-well… we g-get a lot of people in f-for a lot of different r-reasons… and I d-don’t work with every patient… if you know anything e-else about the injuries I m-might know something…”

Fuyuhiko thought for a second, “I don’t know much about the injuries themselves. Just that they’d probably be inflicted to cause a pretty fuckin’ painful death.”

Mikan’s eyes widened, “O-oh no… was this s-somebody else you k-know?”

Fuyuhiko sighed, “Look, keep this on the DL, but I got a tip from somebody that Peko might not actually be dead, and I’m trying to find out for myself.”

Mikan hesitated. Fuyuhiko initially thought that the nurse was just thinking, until he read her expression as one of pure terror. The nurse sank to her knees slowly, trembling like she was facing down a tiger.

“I-I’m s-sorry!!!” she exclaimed, putting her hands together and bowing repeatedly, “P-please don’t hurt me! T-they told m-me to keep it a s-secret!”

“Secret?” Fuyuhiko’s eyebrows shot up, “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“I’m so s-sorry!” the nurse sniffled, rubbing her eyes as tears of fear began to flow, “I d-didn’t mean it… I n-normally wouldn’t h-have… I’m s-sorry!”

“Mikan,” Fuyuhiko clasped a hand on her shoulder to steady her shakes, meeting her gaze fiercely, “Tell me. What secret are you talking about?”

Mikan’s eyes shrank back in her head, retinas shrinking in fear, “O-oh no… I’m s-so stupid… Y-you don’t a-already know? Y-you were really j-just asking m-me?”

“Just spill it, woman, I don’t have all day.”

“I’m s-sorry… P-Peko said she didn’t w-want you to see her y-yet…”

That one took a moment to process. Fuyuhiko’s mind reeled with a strange mixture of excitement, rage, jubilance, nervousness, and apologeticness, and he wasn’t quite sure which of those emotions were directed towards himself, Mikan, or Peko.

“SHE’S ALIVE!?” he exclaimed, not caring about the scene he would make, “Mikan, is Peko alive!? Where is she!?”

“I-I’m sorry…” the nurse sniffed, “S-she told us t-to keep it a s-secret…”

“Us?” Fuyuhiko was incredulous, “Who the fuck else knows!?”

“M-Mahiru, Teruteru, and M-Miss Yukizome…” Mikan whimpered, “W-well, and H-Hajime, but y-you don’t know him…”

“Fucking christ, Mikan!” Fuyuhiko shook his head, “She’s been alive this entire time? Where is she? Is she okay?”

“B-but she told m-me not to--”

Fuyuhiko sighed. He hadn’t wanted to play this card with the nurse, he respected her too much for that, but this was a time for drastic measures, “Mikan, if you take me to Peko, I promise I won’t hurt you, okay? But if you don’t…”

Mikan blanched, “I-I’m sorry! I’ll t-take you at l-lunch!”

“Lunch!? How about right the hell now?”

“I-if we go n-now, then Miss Y-Yukizome will know… and then she’ll h-hate me…”

Fuyuhiko rolled his eyes, “Ugh, you are impossible. Fine. Lunch it is, and you better not bail, you fuckin’ read me?”

Mikan nodded fervently before taking off towards the main course building at a sprint. Fuyuhiko sighed and shook his head, mulling over the information he had just been presented.

“She’s alive after all…” he murmured, fiddling with the ribbon in his pocket, “Damn… what the hell am I gonna say to her…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Peko raised her eyebrow at Hajime as he entered through the front door, “Did your teacher not turn up again?”

“Yup,” the boy sighed, taking his coat off and tossing it into the closet. Nozomu walked up to greet him, receiving a halfhearted scratch in return.

“Best quality education in Japan,” Peko quipped, parroting one of the marketing taglines for the reserve course.

Hajime chuckled, setting down his book bag on the couch, “It’s no problem at this point, I guess. Not like classes really matter for me now.”

“Ah yes, your plan to get into the main course. How is that going, by the way?”

The boy shrugged, “It’s going. I hesitate to say ‘well’, but it’s going, at least.”

Peko nodded, “And what about the project? What is that, anyway?”

Hajime froze, eyes shooting open wide in shock. Nozomu cocked his head up at him, looking curious.

“I-I don’t recall telling you about that,” Hajime eventually said, voice shaky.

Peko blinked, then blushed a little, “Oh, no, I suppose you didn’t. I found a letter addressed to you from the headmaster a few weeks ago, and I didn’t mean to be nosy, but I read it… it mentioned something called ‘the project’, but nothing else.”

Hajime gulped, “P-Peko… the project is a kind of top-secret thing. I’m sorry, you weren’t really supposed to find out about it. I had to sign an NDA and everything…”

Peko’s eyes widened, “Oh… well, I’ll keep it quiet, I suppose. Not that I know much about what it is, anyway. Just that it relates to your plan to get into the main course.”

Hajime nodded slowly, “That’s… probably for the best, honestly. I obviously can’t get too into it, but the less you know, the better.”

Peko just nodded. She wasn’t quite sure how to respond to that, so she decided against pushing the issue any further. Hajime silently grabbed a brush from the drawer and began grooming Nozomu, seeming to just be occupying his mind with something other than their conversation. The pair were silent for a few minutes, each unsure of how to respark conversation. Peko noticed, surprisingly, that this was the first moment of silence between herself and Hajime that could be called uncomfortable.

“...Hajime?” she eventually asked, “Is everything… alright? You seem much more… depressed than usual.”

The boy glanced up at her, giving her a full view of just how sad and troubled his green eyes were. He sighed, setting the brush down and idly scratching Nozomu’s chin.

“Is it that noticeable?” he asked sadly.

Peko nodded, taking a seat beside him on the couch, “I like to think I’ve gotten to know you quite well this past month. I can tell when you’re troubled. Did something happen?”

“Nothing I haven’t been expecting,” he sighed, “This day has never been great for me, but it’s even worse this year, because of… well, something that’s coming.”

“This day? What do you mean?”

Hajime blinked at her, “Peko, do you know what date it is?”

“February fourteenth, I believe, why?”

“And… what day is that?”

Peko thought for a moment. If there was something special about that date, it escaped her. She wracked her brain, scrambling. Was it his birthday? No, he had mentioned that his birthday was New Year’s Day, that made that easy to remember. Some other special day to him? Not that she knew of. Some holiday then? February fourteenth…. Oh.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” she realized, “Is this day difficult for you?”

“Only as difficult as it is for all single people, normally,” Hajime sighed, looking down, “But… this year is different for me. And it’s… not really for a reason I can explain.”

“Do you have feelings for anyone?” she asked, forcing the combined hope and dread building in her stomach down.

Hajime hesitated, turning to look at her. It took him a moment before he responded, “I… do. Yeah, there is someone.”

Peko’s heart plummeted.

“I… see. And does this girl or boy reciprocate?”

Hajime shook his head, “Girl. And I’m… not really sure, honestly. I’d be surprised if she did.”

“Why is that?”

“Well, I mean, why would she? She’s amazing, and I’m just… well, me.”

Peko resisted the urge to blurt out “You’re amazing too”.

Instead, she went with, “You shouldn’t speak of yourself like that. You’re a good person, Hajime. Anyone would be lucky to have you.”

Hajime just sighed, not responding immediately. His eyes fell dark and brooding as Peko and Nozomu both looked at him, their senses detecting the overwhelming aura of inner conflict within the boy.

“Hajime…” Peko said, almost not really knowing why, “Why do you want to get into the main course so badly?”

The boy glanced up at her, “Well… why wouldn’t I? You’re in the main course, you’ve seen how great it is. Plus my money issues would vanish overnight…”

“That’s not what I mean, and I think you know that,” the swordswoman sighed, placing a tentative hand on her friend’s shoulder, “I mean… ever since I’ve known you, your sights have been so fixated on the main course, and more specifically, talent. What is so important about that to you?”

Hajime took a moment to respond, before whispering, “Because talent is all anybody cares about anymore.”

Peko cocked her head, “What do you mean?”

“I don’t blame you if you haven’t noticed it, but the main course of Hope’s Peak are the elite of the elite when it comes to celebrities. You people have freaking fan clubs in other high schools. Ever since it was founded, Hope’s Peak has become the nation’s beacon of hope, but in the process, it’s kinda cast everything that isn’t itself into shadows. I just… I’m tired of being seen as worthless because I’m not special.”

“But you are special,” Peko blurted out without thinking, slapping a hand over her mouth as she blushed.

“Those are kind words, but they’re empty,” Hajime sighed, “I’ve heard them before. Let me guess, I’m special because I’m kind, or I’m special because I see the good in people, or something like that, right? Don’t bother, Peko. Thank you for trying, though.”

“Hajime…” Peko couldn’t force down the pain his words brought her, “If talent is what makes someone worth anything in this world, then that… that is not a world I wish to live in. You, Natsumi, there are so many people in this world who weren’t born with some innate ability, but were kind enough to make a difference. Remember, I would be dead in an alleyway had you not been there when I needed you.”

Hajime sighed, “Natsumi was killed because she had the audacity to want for more for herself. And now I…”

He trailed off. Peko could feel tears staining her cheeks as the boy beneath her hand began to tremble. Nozomu curled up in the boy’s lap, giving his own slight attempt to console him as Hajime very visibly attempted to keep from tearing up.

“You’re the Ultimate Swordswoman, Peko,” Hajime shook his head, “You’re amazing. I’ve never seen it myself, but just from your title, I can tell you’re special. I’m… I’m nothing like that.”

“I never asked for this talent, Hajime. And after this month with you… I’m beginning to wish I had never been given it.”

The boy’s eyes went wide as he whipped around to look at her, “W-what do you mean?”

Peko sighed, “You call our talents inborn, and yes, that may be tha case for some of us ultimates. Others strive to build their talents through passion. I… never asked for this. This talent… this life… it was assigned to me from the moment of my birth. My talent as the Ultimate Swordswoman was one I was forced to walk with whips at my back, surging me forwards, because to not improve was to die. I… I never wanted to be an Ultimate, I was molded into one by necessity.”

“Peko…” Hajime wasn’t quite sure what to say.

“My talent has brought me nothing but pain,” Peko wiped the tears from her face, “And after this month with you, being given a chance to live without it… I almost wish I had never gotten it. So it pains me to see you so desperately cling to hope for something that I never wanted to begin with.”

Hajime paused, surveying her face with a new curiosity.

“Talented or not… ultimate or not, Hajime, I....”

Peko trailed off. She couldn’t bring herself to finish that sentence. Even after years of training, staring death itself in the face, even after defeating hundreds of foes in the past, Peko was still a coward.

A coward who couldn’t bring herself to say “I love you”.

Instead, she chose the next best thing. She pulled Hajime close and hugged him, enveloping his still-trembling body in her arms as if she could shield him from the world that had filled his mind with so much self-hatred. As if somehow, in their embrace, the proximity of their souls would cleanse the other’s. Peko couldn’t tell how long they remained like that, but it was until the tears had stopped flowing and their bodies were still.

“I’m sorry, Peko,” Hajime whispered. Peko wasn’t sure what he was apologizing for, or why.

“It’s okay,” she replied anyway.

As Hajime moved to break the embrace, her every fiber screamed at her to pull him closer. To hug him, to hold him, to kiss him, to love him, but she ignored the cries. She forced the emotions deep within herself, to the point of suffocation, just as she had done her whole life. She had gotten pretty good at that.

“I should head out,” the boy sighed, standing, “I have free time, and we need groceries.”

Peko nodded sadly, returning the soft smile the boy gave her as he pulled his coat on. Hajime hesitated at the open door, casting a final glance back to her, before shutting it behind him. Nozomu walked over to Peko, sitting on her lap and nuzzling his face into her chest. She sighed, wrapping her arms around the cat and stroking him behind the ears.

“What am I going to do, Nozomu?” she murmured, “What can I do?”

About five minutes later, a knock came from the door again. Assuming it was Hajime, returned because he forgot something, Peko stood quickly. She ignored how Nozomu shrank away from the doorway, as if seeing something behind it that she could not.

“One moment!” she called as she walked over. The deadbolt slid out of place with a metallic click as she turned it, before swinging the door open.

As she saw who awaited her on the other side, she felt the life she had been so selfishly living for the past month shatter before her. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

“P...Peko?” Fuyuhiko asked, not daring to believe his own eyes, “Is it… really you…?”

The ghost that had opened the door before him stood still, eyes wide with shock and an emotion that he couldn’t read.

“Fuyu...hiko?” the ghost asked softly, sending waves of elation surging throughout the yakuza boy’s body.

“Holy shit…” he murmured, “I… You… You’re…”

Peko nodded softly, “Yes… I am… alive…”

That was all Fuyuhiko needed to hear. He wrapped his arms around Peko’s neck, embracing her as if his life depended on it, “YOU ARE! I… I’ve missed you so much! I thought you were dead this whole time!”

Peko tetatively placed her hands on Fuyuhiko’s back, returning the embrace, “Yes… I am sorry…”

Fuyuhiko couldn’t have possibly been more elated as he pushed into the apartment, Mikan (whose presence he had already largely forgotten) following timidly behind him, “Peko… you should have told me you were alive! I wouldn’t have told my dad, you know that!”

Peko looked away from his gaze, “Yes, I know… that was not... why…”

Fuyuhiko sighed, remembering the words that Fukuda had spoken that morning, “Peko, Natsumi wasn’t your fault. That was on that Sato bitch, alright? You couldn’t’a stopped that shit. You don’t have to exile yourself for it.”

Peko didn’t answer. The usually stoic swordswoman just examined the carpeted floor. Fuyuhiko noticed a cat at her feet, hiding behind her legs and observing him angrily.

“I-I’m sorry, P-Peko…” Mikan was trembling, “H-he asked me… and I… I-I’m sorry…”

Peko shook her head, “No… It’s alright, Mikan. It was… foolish of me to believe he would not find out.”

“How are you doing, Peko?” Fuyuhiko asked, his tone switching to one of concern as he observed the bandages around her arm, “My dad roughed you up a lot, huh? You recovering okay?”

Peko nodded, eyes still filled with more emotion than Fuyuhiko had ever seen her with, yet he could read none of it, “Mikan has been visiting daily before school. Her talent has been instrumental in my recovery, you have her to thank.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, bowing to the nurse, “We’re in your debt, Mikan. I won’t forget this, I promise.”

The nurse just nodded, still trembling.

“Sorry to get all in your face like this,” Fuyuhiko scratched the back of his head uncomfortably, “I’m just… really glad to see you’re alright. This past month… it’s been hard for me.”

Peko nodded, “How has the master been treating you?”

The yakuza boy chuckled, “I’m not at home. I’m actually somewhat at war with that asshole, honestly. I’ve been staying with Gundham.”

Peko’s eyes widened, “War? What do you mean by that?”

“Bastard killed you, or at least tried to. That was way over the line. It’s time for a change in leadership for our family, and I decided I wasn’t patient or merciful enough to let time do it. I’m gonna see his head roll.”

“Are you certain that’s a good idea? Your father is very well protected…”

“Not anymore, he ain’t,” Fuyuhiko smirked, “I’ve been running a whisper campaign with the help of the rest of our class. A lot of his allies and such are pulling away. Oh hey, speaking of which, we gotta let the others know you’re alive!”

Peko flinched, before sighing, “Yes, of course.”

Fuyuhiko blinked, “Is… everything alright, Peko? You good?”

“Don’t worry, I will be okay.”

Fuyuhiko hesitated, before nodding slowly, “Hey, whose apartment is this, anyway?”

“H-Hajime Hinata…” Mikan piped up, “H-he’s the one that f-found Peko in the alley a-and called me in… S-she’s been living w-with him since…”

Fuyuhiko’s mind sparked with recollection, “Hajime Hinata? This wouldn’t be the same one that was friends with Natsumi, would it?”

“I am.”

Fuyuhiko turned to see a new figure in the doorway. The boy was tall, with scruffy hair and a cowlick, sporting a tired expression.

“I take it you’re Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu, then,” the boy said, “I’ve heard a lot. From both Natsumi and Peko.”

“Yeah,” Fuyuhiko nodded slowly, “So I have you to thank for giving Peko sanctuary this past month?”

Hajime shrugged, “It’s my pleasure.”

Fuyuhiko turned to Peko, “Anyway, Peko, like I was saying, my dad’s defenses are up shit creek right about now. Me and the others put our heads together and we were thinking of moving on him tomorrow night. If you’re healed up enough, you want in? Once we take back the house, you can come back and live there with me again.”

Fuyuhiko would be lying if he said he didn’t notice the uncomfortable flinch from both Hajime and Peko at his words, but he wasn’t sure why.

“Of…” Peko began, her voice catching somewhat in her throat, “Of course I’ll join you. I too harbour ill will against your father, I would not mind seeing him pay.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, “Perfect, I’ll let the others know. They’re gonna be so happy you’re alive, Peko! You shoulda seen their faces when they thought you were dead. In the meantime, let’s get you a sword or something, and you can come with me to Gundham’s hou--”

“If it’s alright,” Peko said quickly, not meeting Fuyuhiko’s eye, “I would… like to stay here for this last night. I have some things I would like to… pack up.”

The yakuza boy shrugged, “...alright, that makes sense. You should come to school tomorrow so we can plan as a class though, yeah?”

“Of course.”

Hajime glanced uncomfortably between Fuyuhiko and Peko, before shaking his head, “Peko, are you sure your arm is healed enough for that? I know you’ve been up and about for a while now, but still…”

“Hey, man,” Fuyuhiko didn't quite have a reason for his anger towards Hajime, but it flared all the same. Something just didn’t sit right with him, “If she says she’s up to it, she’s up to it. You aren't gonna---”

“I will be fine, Hajime,” Peko reassured the boy, cutting off Fuyuhiko, “Don’t worry about me, I know how to use a sword with one arm just as well as two.”

Hajime hesitated before nodding sadly. The cat that was formerly behind Peko now jumped behind his legs, still glaring at Fuyuhiko for reasons unknown.

“In that case, if you’re sure,” the boy said sadly, eyes drifting downwards, “I just came back because I forgot my wallet. I’ll let you guys catch up.”

Hajime grabbed his wallet from the top shelf of the closet and walked out the door, swinging it shut behind him. Fuyuhiko would, again, be lying if he said he didn’t notice the single tear roll down Peko’s cheek as the door clicked closed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

The green-haired girl huffed heavily catching her breath in the dark alleyway as the police sirens vanished into the distance. She had jumped through so many fenced backyards, and she was out of breath. Maybe skipping gym class so often hadn’t been a good idea, back when she was still a student.

“You’re quite the sight,” a man’s voice came from the shadows. The girl whipped her head up and sunk into a defensive position, but the man held up a reassuring hand.

“Who are you?” the girl asked, surveying the man’s clothes. He wore a lab coat and a black button-up, with an ID clip on his lapel with a familiar school insignia next to a name she couldn’t make out.

“That’s not important,” the man shook his head, “I’m much more interested in who you are. Or more importantly, who you could be.”

The green-haired girl opened her mouth to question the man some more, before the two piles of garbage on either side of her shifted. Two figures leapt from the trash, the first pinning her arms to her back and the other pressing a cloth to her mouth. The vapour stopped the screams from echoing as the girl’s own breaths of panic pulled her into unconsciousness. The man standing above her, chuckling lightly, was the last thing she heard before she succumbed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope I pulled as many heartstrings with this chapter as I was intending to.


	15. Night Falls

Peko came to Hajime’s room late that night. He wasn’t sure how she knew he’d still be awake.

“Hey,” he said, flicking his bedside lamp on.

“Hey,” she replied. Hajime noticed Nozomu in her arms, curled up and sleeping like a baby. The sight made him smile, if only somewhat.

“What’s up?” he asked, pretending to rub the sleep from his eyes. In reality, he had been wide awake, staring at the white ceiling and trying to escape the dark pit in his stomach for the past two hours.

“I wanted to talk to you,” Peko replied, gingerly setting Nozomu down on the bed before siitting herself, “About the past month.”

Hajime nodded solemnly. With Fuyuhiko back, Peko would be returning to the Kuzuryu mansion. And Hajime.... Well, Hajime knew what was coming. In a way, he was glad Peko would be gone at the same time as him. It was… convenient.

“I wanted to express my thanks,” Peko said, “Once again, I mean. For letting me stay here with you.”

“You don’t have to worry about that,” Hajime waved a hand, “It’s been my pleasure. I’ve been glad to have somebody to talk to.”

Peko nodded, “Indeed. It’s been… a fun experience, living with you. If it’s not too strange to say, I think you are the person that I consider myself the closest to.”

Hajime cocked an eyebrow, “What about Fuyuhiko? Didn’t you two grow up together?”

Peko shrugged, “Yes, we did. But Fuyuhiko… well, Fuyuhiko is someone that I never really allowed myself to express emotion to. I was his tool, plain and simple. No need for undue dilemma to plague his mind with. You’re a different case. I feel like I can always be open with you.”

“I’m glad you think that,” he smiled, “I feel similarly about you, Peko. I’m glad I found you in that alleyway, and it’s not just because it saved your life.”

Peko’s giggle only served to widen the dark pit in Hajime’s stomach. He loved that giggle. He loved it when something he said brought it out. It was so light, so carefree, so… beautiful. That giggle was going to be gone soon, as lost to him as every other aspect of his life up to now.

“I’m glad too,” Peko nodded, “You did save my life, in more than one fashion. You… were largely the one who showed me that I had a life to save, Hajime.”

Hajime rested a hand on the swordswoman’s shoulder, “It’s a shame nobody did that before me. You… you’re incredible, Peko.”

Peko lifted her hand to meet his on her shoulder. Hajime’s heart jumped slightly as she held his fingers in her palm.

Tell her.

Tell her, you idiot.

She’s leaving, and you’re never going to see her again. Tell her.

“I’m really glad we met,” he said instead. The swordswoman nodded, a sad smile breaking across her face.

“I suppose you’ll miss having someone around to cook and split rent with?” she asked, trying to insert some humor into her voice, but very little came through.

“Yeah, I will,” Hajime lied. He wouldn’t miss anything. He wouldn’t remember anything. Maybe then this pit in his stomach will go away. God, he hoped so.

He hated lying to her. It felt like he was betraying everything they had built, but he knew he had to. If he told her the truth, told her what was going to happen to him, she would try to stop him. She would lie to him, cry for him, even physically restrain him, he knew, if that’s what it took. He didn’t want her to stop him. He wanted her to give him a reason to stop himself.

But he couldn’t tell her.

He couldn’t tell her how he felt, because there was no way she would feel the same way. She was his best friend, and clearly she thought of him the same way, but she was an ultimate. What Hajime wanted.... It just couldn’t be. Not as he was. It was impossible.

“What are we going to do about this one?” Peko asked, scratching Nozomu on the belly while he slept. The cat purred in satisfaction.

“You keep him,” Hajime replied softly, “He plays with my ahoge too much, it gets on my nerves.”

“Oh, you love him just as much as I do,” Peko laughed.

“True, but you need him more than I do.”

Peko fell silent, slowly nodding. Hajime reached down and scratched the cat’s ears as he fell silent, too. The silence was comforting, somehow. Resolute. Hajime had said everything he had the courage to say. To her face, at least.

“Fuyuhiko wants to meet up at school to strategize all day,” she murmured, “Do you have class tomorrow? We could walk together.”

Hajime nodded. He had no intention of attending class on his final day of existence, but he would happily take the chance to say goodbye to her, formally. Maybe then he would work up the courage to tell her the truth. He knew he wouldn’t, but it was a nice thought.

“Fuyuhiko…” Hajime sighed, “He’s alright, right? You’ll be happy living with him again?”

Peko hesitated before bowing her head, “Fuyuhiko is a kind soul, even if he has a strange way of showing it.”

“Good.”

Hajime hesitated for a moment, forming the words he wanted in his mind, before continuing, “Peko… promise me you won’t forget this, okay? Your time with me, I mean. You said that I taught you how to live… promise me you won’t forget that, right?”

Peko blinked, “Of course. I could never forget you, Hajime. You shouldn’t speak so morbidly, it’s not like this is the end of our friendship.”

Hajime covered up the pain from her words tearing his heart to pieces with a dry chuckle and a shake of his head.

“Sorry. Guess I’m just tired. You all packed?”

The swordswoman nodded, “All the books are put away in bags, as are the clothes. I suppose I don’t have much else to take from here, other than memories.”

Hajime smiled at that. It was a nice thought, her carrying on the memory of their time together here, even though he wouldn’t be able to.

“I should let you sleep,” Peko sighed, standing. Hajime’s hand fell to the bed as her hand released it, suddenly feeling more cold and incomplete than it had ever felt before, “It’s getting late, and you have school tomorrow.”

Hajime nodded, “See you in the morning, Peko.”

“Good night, Hajime.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Alright, I should get going,” Peko said at the fountain, turning to the boy beside her, “Enjoy your classes.”

Hajime nodded slowly, “Have fun storming the yakuza. Be careful, okay?”

“I will. Fuyuhiko wants to go straight there from the end of school since everyone will be together. I’ll drop by ou--- your apartment after that, to grab Nozomu and my things.”

Hajime smiled, “See you then.”

He knew full well she wouldn’t.

“See you,” Peko turned to walk away.

Tell her.

Tell her, you idiot.

She’s walking away right now, you have to tell her. Please, god, tell her before it’s too late.

“Peko?” he called. The swordswoman turned back and met his eyes one more time.

“What is it?”

“Thank you,” Hajime said.

“For what?”

“For… seeing what I can’t. And for everything else. Goodbye.”

Hajime was the one who broke eye contact and turned away first. He knew that if he saw her turn away from him, he would break, so he did it first. He walked towards the reserve course building just long enough until he knew she would be gone, then doubled back and headed back to the apartment.

He had a letter to write. One full of apologies and confessions. And he would probably be rewriting it all day. After all, a will is something you’re supposed to put a lot of thought into.

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuyuhiko could feel his heart beating out of his chest with anticipation. A month of whispers in the right ears, six straight hours of planning, and here he was. Standing on the rooftop adjacent to the Kuzuryu estate, observing the movements of the security guards, walkie-talkie in hand. He couldn’t ask for two better people at hae at his side than the two that were there now.

“Everybody ready?” he asked the radio.

“A squad, ready,” came Akane’s voice.

“B squad, ready,” Kazuichi’s.

“C squad, ready,” That was Yukizome.

“Getaway, ready,” Mahiru’s voice came through.

“Alright folks, remember,” Fuyuhiko said, “Zero body count. We’re not here to criminalize any of you. Stick to the plan, neutralize security. You see a tall guy with a sword and long black hair, you bail. Peko’s gotta handle that. Any of you can run at any time, just get to the getaway and wait for the rest of us there, got it?”

Various noises of assent came through the radio. Fuyuhiko turned to the people beside him on the rooftop.

“You ready, Peko?” he asked the swordswoman.

She nodded, “Yes, I am. Fukuda will not hinder you once I engage him, wherever he may be.”

“And you, Gundham, you all ready to go?”

“Our forces stand ready. Just say the word.”

“Alright. Well, if everybody’s ready, it’s time for the show to start. Open the petting zoo on their asses, Gundham.”

The breeder nodded, stepping up to the ledge of the roof and beginning to chant some strange incantation in a dialect Fuyuhiko didn’t recognize. A pigeon flew overhead. Then another. Then two more.

Then the moon’s light was blocked out.

Fuyuhiko heard the guards at the front gate begin to scream as they were dive-bombed by hundreds of pigeons. Gunfire rang out, piercing the night with its metallic snaps, which meant that Fuyuhiko was now officially on the clock.

“B squad, it’s go time,” he said into the radio as he dashed to the fire escape, Peko hot on his heels.

“Hell yeah,” came Kazuichi’s voice.

Fuyuhiko smirked as lights flicked out in the Kuzuryu manor. If anybody had been going for the alarm, alerted by the gunfire, their attempt would be fruitless now. Kazuichi had tripped the breaker, and alongside Nekomaru, would now be defending that position with their lives. If the security was permitted to call in reinforcements from elsewhere in the city, they were doomed.

Fuyuhiko and Peko reached the front gate, noting with disgust that the four guards that had been swarmed by pigeons were unconscious and very much covered in dung. Fuyuhiko swiped the keys off the least filthy one and slid the gate open. He noticed the two guards who had been at the front door begin to point at him and shout indistinctly.

“A squad, you’re on,” he said into the radio, “Raise hell.”

The guards’ shouting was drowned out by the massive explosion that rocked the entire building. One RPG round, courtesy of a very enthusiastic princess. That ought to grab their attention. The guards out front, having been distracted by the explosion, turned back too late to stop themselves from getting essentially clubbed over the skulls by Peko’s still-sheathed blade. Approaching the doorway, Fuyuhiko could hear more guards shouting and running in the direction of the explosion, which had been aimed out by the back garden. As far away as possible from Fuyuhiko and Peko’s entry point.

“C squad, my father will be heading your way now,” Fuyuhiko whispered into the radio as he slipped inside, Peko at his heels, “You’re covering the only secret escape route out of his office, which is where he always is at this hour. Don’t rough him up too bad before I---”

“Young master,” came a male voice immediately in front of him, startling him. Fukuda stepped from the shadows, blade in hand and towering over the small yakuza. His sword was instantly hit to the side as sparks flew, Peko leaping in front of Fuyuhiko defensibly.

“Hello, teacher,” Peko said calmly as Fuyuhiko scrambled to his feet.

“Hello, student,” Fukuda replied, “I see you’re alive after all.”

“Unfortunately for the oyabun, yes.”

“So that’s what you’re here for after all, then? To kill him?”

“Not me,” Peko shook her head, “I’m here to occupy you. Friends of ours are handling what securtiy was redirected towards the explosion, and Fuyuhiko should be getting off to his father.”

With that statement, Peko sent a pointed kick to Fuyuhiko’s leg, causing him to scramble up to his feet.

“Be careful,” he told her, before running off. 

Fuyuhiko knew this mansionlike the back of his hand. He slipped through room after room, even taking the back staircase rather than the main one, as he knew it would get him there three paces sooner. He couldn’t deny that the wild anticipation he felt was probably unhealthy, but he allowed it all the same.

Masayoshi Kuzuryu was about to die by his hand, and he was going to savour every single instant of it.

Fuyuhiko saw the flash of light before he felt the pain or heard the shot. The bullet ripped through his arm, sending him slamming against the wall and crying out in pain.

“SON OF A BITCH!” he exclaimed, good hand flying to the wound to staunch the bloodflow. The dim light from the open window revealed the face of the portly man as he stepped out from his hiding place in the shadows.

“Hello there, my boy,” Masayoshi said smugly.

“Asshole,” Fuyuhiko grunted through the pain, “You were supposed to be running. You had an exit and everything.”

The oyabun shrugged, “What kind of man would I be if I let dear Fukuda have all the fun?”

“Fuyuhiko?” came Yukizome’s voice through the radio, how across the floor as he had dropped it, “We have a problem. Nobody is coming throu--”

Masayoshi stepped on the radio, smashing it beneath his foot. The gun in his hand never left Fuyuhiko, nor did the man’s bloodthirsty eyes.

“Should have let some of your friends come with you,” his father grunted, “You have a bad habit of overestimating yourself, kid.”

“Fuck you,” was all he could manage through the pain as shock began to wear off.

“You know something funny?” Masayoshi asked, “I’ve never understood why the trope is that the son always kills the father. I mean, I can make more of you, you can’t make more of me. What’s the deal with that?”

Fuyuhiko just spat at his father, the dread already setting in. Peko was busy fighting Fukuda. Gundham was outside with his animals, forming a perimeter. Nekomaru and Kazuichi were defending the circuits in the sewers beneath the street. Sonia, Akane, Nagito, and Ibuki were out back, dealing with security. Yukizome, Hiyoko, and Ryota were waiting for a man who would never come to them. Mahiru, Mikan, Chiaki, and Teruteru were in a rented truck a block away. Nobody was coming.

“Shit,” Fuyuhiko muttered.

“Shit is right,” Masayoshi laughed, “You done fucked up, kiddo. Should have brought a few of your little school buddies along with you to come get me. Or were you too afraid of them getting hurt?”

Fuyuhiko just glared at his father.

“You care too much about people, kid,” Masayoshi continued, “That’s always been your problem. I tried to teach you to fend for yourself, to get ahead whenever you could, but you never got the lesson. You were so fucking enamoured with that two-buck whore I gave you.”

Fuyuhiko knew that Masayoshi was just trying to push his buttons. The problem was that he was really good at it.

“Fuck you, asshat,” The yakuza boy spat, “You’re right, I care about people. That’s no weakness. If I didn’t, I would have died at the gate, trying to come kill you on my own like a dumbass.”

Masayoshi’s eyebrow twitched, “The difference between dying at the gate and dying in the foyer isn’t very large, kid. Either way, dead’s dead.”

“Not necessarily,” Fuyuhiko staggered to a standing position, using the wall behind him for support, “You know, dad, for a yakuza oyabun with anger management issues, you’re pretty shit at killing people.”

“How do you mean?”

“Peko’s alive. She’s handling your lapdog as we speak, actually.”

Masayoshi paused, surveying Fuyuhiko’s face. Eventually, the man cracked a large smile, “Heh. So the girl lives, huh. Funny. I’ll have to rectify that once I’m done with you.”

“No, I don’t think you will,” Fuyuhiko grinned, “If you were going to kill me, you would have by now. Or at least attacked me beyond the bullet, you’ve beaten the crap outta me enough times in the past. And it’s not like I can exactly defend myself.”

“What are you implying, boy?”

“I’m implying that you have no intention of killing me here tonight.”

Masayoshi fell silent, regarding his son with a strange look in his eyes.

“I’m right, aren’t I?” Fuyuhiko took a step forward, “Peko, the dojo, everything that’s happened… You wanted me to hate you, didn’t you?”

Masayoshi smiled, not moving his gun, “Is that what you think?”

“No, I know,” Fuyuhiko smiled, “I didn’t before, but I have your game figured out. Don’t worry pops, I don’t intend to let you down.”

Masayoshi paused for a moment, looking back into Fuyuhiko’s eyes and meeting the determination he found there as one would stare the grim reaper in the face.

“That’s a nice change, then,” the oyabun chuckled, dropping the gun to the floor with a dull thud. 

“I’ll have you know that I’m gonna change this,” Fuyuhiko said as he dug his knife out of his coat, flicking the blade out, “This cycle of ruthless bloodshed and backstabbing ends here. With you.”

“Said the pot to the kettle.”

“Fuck you, dad.”

Masayoshi laughed out loud at that, “Oh, my boy, you’re just like I was when I was your age. I had ideals, too. Dreams, ambition. I wanted it all: both power and love. My father thought the same, as did his. You’ll be no different.”

“We’ll see about that.”

“Well, I won’t. Oh, and by the way, the combination to my liquor safe is 1932. Same as the year of the wine. Have fun, kiddo.”

Fuyuhiko’s hand plunged forwards, and it was over.

~~~~~~~~~~~

“Why are you not attacking?” Peko asked.

“I was ordered to let the young master through,” Fukuda shrugged, sheathing his blade and sitting down on the floor, “You, I received no orders about. It’s good to see you.”

Peko paused, before sheathing her blade as well and sitting down across from her teacher, “You as well. It’s been a while since we’ve spoken like this.”

“It has. Too long, my student. I feared it would never happen again.”

Peko nodded solemnly. She wasn’t quite sure what to say to the man before her.

“You’ve changed,” she eventually chose, “You… lack the conviction I once admired in you.”

Fukuda nodded, “Yes, that happens when one is about to die. I imagine my eyes look similar to how yours looked that day in the mortuary.”

Peko blinked, “You… are what?”

The swordsman shrugged, “The oyabun will die here tonight. He said as much himself. With that, having failed in my duty to protect him, I must die upon my sword as well.”

Peko’s eyes widened, “The oyabun intends to die here tonight? What on earth do you mean!?”

Fukuda chuckled, “Tonight is Fuyuhiko’s last lesson. The oyabun has been bringing the boy up to be a yakuza, after all. You know what that means; how ruthless you must be.”

Peko fell silent. Yes, she knew that well.

“I’m not the only one that’s changed,” Fukuda said, “You seem different, too. There is… life in your eyes where there once wasn’t.”

Peko nodded, “Yes. Peko Pekoyama, the tool, died as she was supposed to in that alleyway. I now know what I am, and it is not just the sword I carry.”

Fukuda nodded, observing her, “To be honest, that makes me happy. You were the closest thing I ever had to a daughter, Peko. I’m glad you’re better off than I am.”

Peko nodded sadly. She had escaped her fate, but Fukuda had lived the life of a tool for much longer than she had. There would be no swaying his decision.

“By the way…” Fukuda smiled, “Who is he?”

Peko started, “W-what?”

“The boy you love. Who is he?”

Peko stiffened, her mind racing out of control.

“Was there a news bulletin I missed or something?” she eventually sighed, “How is it that obvious to everyone?”

“That look in your eyes. It’s the same one that the young mistress would have whenever a school crush turned her down. I could always tell.”

Peko shook her head, “It cannot be, between me and him.”

“Why not? You just said you aren’t a tool any more. Why do you have to separate yourself from this boy?”

Peko stiffened, “B-but I have a duty to Fuyuhiko…”

Fukuda observed her sadly, “You believe you have a duty to Fuyuhiko, but your heart lies elsewhere. That is a poor combination, Peko. You cannot be split between your heart and mind, that is one of the first things I taught you in swordplay. You must be certain in all aspects of yourself as you swing your blade.”

The swordswoman fell silent, observing the wooden floor rather than meeting her teacher’s eyes.

“This boy,” Fukuda sighed, “Does he feel the same?”

“I don’t know…”

“If you were certain that he did, would you still stay with Fuyuhiko?”

Peko didn’t have an answer for that immediately.

“...if I don’t stay with him, who will?” she eventually sighed.

Fukuda thought for a moment, before smiling, “Here’s an idea…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~

Fuyuhiko was still standing over his father’s body when she walked in.

“Fuyuhiko?” Peko asked.

The yakuza boy turned to look at her. His expression was not one of happiness, or even of satisfaction. In fact, he looked troubled.

“Hey, Peko,” he said, “How did it go with Fukuda?”

“Fukuda chose not to oppose us,” Peko replied, “He’s waiting for you out in the main hall, actually.”

Fuyuhiko nodded, smiling, “Good. I’m glad we didn’t have to kill him, in the end.”

“Fuyuhiko! Peko!” Yukizome’s voice shouted as the housekeeper ran into the room, “Are you alright? Where is--- oh, there he is.”

Yukizome’s gaze was fixed on the body in the room. Peko wondered if she should be concerned that the teacher didn’t look very troubled by the loss of life, but shelved that information for another day.

“Fuyuhiko,” Peko noticed, “Your arm. It’s injured.”

“Eh, nothing Mikan can’t fix,” the boy shrugged, “Come on, let’s get the others together and get them outta here. Since this is my house again, we gotta do some cleaning.”

Peko hesitated, “...actually, Fuyuhiko, I have a rather selfish request.”

The yakuza boy looked at her strangely, “Selfish? You? That’s new.”

Peko nodded, getting down on one knee before him, “Oyabun Fuyuhiko, I respectfully ask to be relieved of service.”

Fuyuhiko stiffened, “W-what? What do you mean, relieved of service?”

“I mean, I can no longer in good faith serve the Kuzuryus. My… my heart is torn.”

“Peko, I don’t understand. What are you talking about?”

“I…” Peko trailed off. She couldn’t find the right words, because she was searching for ones that wouldn’t hurt Fuyuhiko, but those didn’t exist.

“Hajime Hinata,” Yukizome said for her, “She’s in love with him.”

Fuyuhiko’s breath left him as he staggered one step back, turning to the girl on the floor, “P-Peko…”

“It’s true,” she sighed, “I… I can’t be your tool anymore, Fuyuhiko. I’m so deeply sorry for that, but… I have found something… more.”

Fuyuhiko’s mind told him to protest, but the words didn’t come.

“You… love him?” Fuyuhiko stammered, “But… you’ve only known him for a month…”

“It’s… unconventional, yes,” Peko replied, “But… I know what I feel. A month ago, I didn’t even know I was capable of feeling this way for another person, but…”

Fuyuhiko forced the tears forming in his eyes down. He couldn’t cry, not now. Not after everything he had already accomplished.

“This… this is real, right?” he asked softly, “This isn’t just…. I dunno…”

“It’s real,” Peko replied, standing up and meeting his eyes with a sad smile, “I’m sorry, but it’s true. I… I have to be true to myself. And that can’t be as your tool any longer.”

A long silence passed between them. Peko didn’t know what was going on inside Fuyuhiko’s mind, but she didn’t expect it to come out eventually as a light, sad laugh.

“Peko…” he murmured, “I never wanted a tool. You were never just that to me. You were my family, I always loved you like a sister.”

“I know,” she replied, a tear streaking down her face.

Fuyuhiko smiled, “Damn, what has that boy done to my Peko? This is the first time I’ve ever seen you cry.”

Peko smiled back, “Hajime… he taught me who I am. He gave me a home. Something to go back to. Something that I can call… truly my own. I… I love him, Fuyuhiko. I love the apartment we live in together. I love our adorable cat, Nozomu. I… I choose that. If you give me leave.”

“Peko…” Fuyuhiko whispered, “If you’re really sure… then I can’t hold you back. Just… promise me you won’t regret it?”

“I know I won’t. You have my word.”

Fuyuhiko nodded softly, “Then you’re excused of service. Thank you, Peko.”

“No, thank you.”

Fuyuhiko strode forward and embraced Peko tightly, in a hold that she returned. The two stayed like that for some time, allowing themselves to weep, to support one another one last time, before eventually breaking apart.

“Yukizome?” Fuyuhiko asked the housekeeper, who was watching the scene with teary eyes, “Something wrong? What’s with that look?”

Yukizome looked from Fuyuhiko to Peko and back again, then down at the floor.

“UGH! Damn my bleeding heart straight to hell!” she exclaimed.

“What is it?” Peko asked.

“Peko, you mentioned that Hajime was involved in something called ‘the project’, right?”

“Yes, why?”

“And that’s going on tomorrow morning, right?”

“I think so, yes.”

Yukizome sighed, putting a hand to her forehead in shame, “I… think it’s time someone filled you in on what exactly that project is.”

~~~~~~~~~~~

Peko couldn’t think. She couldn’t breathe. The apartment had never felt so suffocating. All she could do was read the words on the page. Again and again. The words burned themselves into her brain like a brand.

\----

Peko,

I’ve rewritten this letter more times than I can count. It’s getting late, it’s almost nine. You’ll be here soon, and I know I can’t still be here when you get here. I’m sorry you have to find out this way, but this is how it has to be.

The project, the one you heard about from the headmaster’s letter, is called the Kamukura Project. It’s Hope’s Peak’s secret experiment to imbue a host body with all the talent they have ever studied. But it comes at a price, that of my memories and personality. I’ll probably be gone already by the time you read this. I’m sorry it has to be this way.

I’ve already told you why I’m doing this. I’m nothing to this world as I am. Just a piece of talentless trash to be tossed by the wayside. With this project, I can finally do something worthwhile. I can finally… be as amazing as you are.

I’m a coward, Peko. I know that. If I wasn’t, I would have worked up the courage to tell you this in person, long before now. 

I love you, Peko. I’ve been in love with you for weeks. You’re the best thing that’s ever stumbled into my life. I know you probably don’t feel the same way, and I accept that. Please don’t hate me for what I’m doing, or how I’m leaving you, I know you’ll have every right to, but please. Try to remember me in the way you described me last night. That would make me happy.

Thank you for everything, Peko. Take care of Nozomu. Tell him I’m sorry too.

I hope the Kuzuryus give you as incredible and as happy a life as you deserve.

Hajime.

\----

Peko didn't hear the cries of confusion from class 77 as she dashed out of the apartment. She didn’t feel the pain as she leapt down the stairs and twisted her ankle. She didn’t register the cold February night air as she raced through the streets.

No.

He couldn’t be gone.

She wouldn’t let him.

Fuck Hope’s Peak. Fuck talent.

Fuck the world that made victims out of everyone born without direction.

Fuck the circumstances that brought the both of them here.

Fuck it all.

Peko was getting Hajime back. She needed him back. She wasn’t going to lose him now.

She loved him.

And she was going to absolutely throttle him when she found him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Unleashed my inner Junko a bit for this one. Y'all feeling that despair yet?


	16. A New Day

Hajime set down his pen softly, scratching at his tired face. The letter was complete, after however many hundreds of attempts. Hajime hadn’t thought transcribing his feelings onto paper would be so difficult. Some attempts had barely been longer than a few words, others had been college level essays. He was finally content with what laid before him, on a piece of scratch notebook paper.

He sighed, standing and cracking his neck, stretching his muscles that were sore from sitting down all day. It was almost nine PM, and he knew Peko would be here soon. He had to go before she found him. Every part of him wished to see her one more time, but he knew that would be impossible if he wanted to see this through.

Hajime went to the bathroom to freshen up quickly. He wasn’t sure why he wanted to look presentable for this; maybe it was just a pride thing. The same way people pay so much to have the bodies of their loved ones embalmed for the funeral. If tonight was when Hajime faded away, he was going to at least look good while it was happening.

When Hajime walked over to the front door, Nozomu was waiting for him there.

“Hey,” he said, kneeling down to scratch the cat, who flinched away from his touch. He tried again, but recieved a clawing in return that caused him to jerk his hand back in pain.

“Sorry,” he sighed, “I guess I deserve that.”

Nozomu moved to stand in front of the door, eyes looking up at Hajime defiantly. The boy wondered if somehow the cat knew what was going on. If somehow Nozomu was trying to stop him.

“Sorry, buddy,” he said, “But my mind is made up. Be good to Peko, alright? She’s probably gonna need you.”

Nozomu’s good eye narrowed, and he finally moved out of the way as Hajime opened the door. He cast one last look over his apartment, eyes settling on the now-vacant couch. Peko’s bags were still piled beside it, a sign that she had once been there, at least, but the couch itself seemed so empty without her. The whole apartment did. Hajime wondered how he had survived as long as he did without the swordswoman there, before they had met. 

The door clicked shut. Hajime didn’t lock it, as Peko would need to get in after he was gone. A small part of him wondered what would become of the place. Would it be rented out to someone else? A stranger who knew nothing of what had happened within? Maybe Peko would maintain it, in memory. Probably not, but that was a nice thought. Hajime knew that maybe Peko wouldn’t want to remember him for this. That maybe she would hate him. That thought made him sad, but he knew that feeling wouldn’t last long. Pretty soon, he wouldn’t even remember who she was. Maybe then, each step he took away from his apartment wouldn’t feel like he was dragging manacles behind him. 

The cool, February evening air caught in his lungs as he stepped outside. There was no snow on the ground, just a few puddles from when it had rained last. Global warming and such. It didn’t matter. As Hajime walked down the so-familiar route to Hope’s Peak academy, he remembered the last time it had rained, before the rain that had caused the puddles in which he now tread. The day he met Peko for the first time.

Hajime cleared the thought from his mind, taking a small detour from his usual walk. It would take him at least five more minutes to reach his destination this way, but he wouldn’t have to walk past the alley. He wouldn’t have to relive the best thing that had ever happened to him.

It would hurt too much to bear.

His march was slow. Slower than usual. Hajime couldn’t be sure if he was walking slowly to enjoy the scenery for the last time, or if some unconscious part of him was trying to give Peko the best chance she could get of stopping him. Of finding him. He couldn’t deny that every time a car would approach, his heart would lift somewhat in hope, only to fall back down as the headlights inevitably drifted past him, unseeing and uncaring. Whatever part of him was still clinging to what he knew couldn’t be was making a nuisance of itself now, which he supposed he understood.

He arrived at Hope’s Peak all the same.

Trudging past the fork in the path, he glanced over to the reserve course building, his mind wandering to Natsumi. The girl he had only known for a matter of days, yet had still grown quite close to before she was murdered. In the end, he realized, he had the yakuza girl to thank for bringing Peko and him as close as they had become. If their grief for Natsumi hadn’t been as mutual as it was, he probably never would have opened his home to Peko. Not, really, that it mattered anymore. He had known about the project before he had met Peko, or even Natsumi, for that matter. He had been on borrowed time this past month, and it was time to pay the piper.

Passing the fountain, he took the left way around it. This was another detour, because if he was to go the right way, he would see the spot on which he had looked into her beautiful red eyes the final time, and he didn’t want to think about that anymore. In a way, he was looking forward to the project, if only to forget.

Under normal circumstances, the gates to Hope’s Peak’s main course would have been barred by security, headed up by the former Ultimate Boxer. Tonight, however, the entire campus was deserted. Security had been dismissed for his arrival.

Two figures were waiting for him at the front doors. The first, he recognized in the dim moonlight, as Jin Kirigiri, who just looked up at him sadly as he approached. The second was a man in a labcoat that he didn’t recognize, whose face was the polar opposite from the headmaster’s, filled with glee at the arrival of the boy.

“So you came after all,” Kirigiri sighed, not meeting Hajime’s eyes.

“I did,” was all he said in reply.

“Wonderful,” the scientist man clasped his hands together, “It’s a pleasure, Mr. Hinata. My name is Nagasawa Shun, I’m the lead researcher and head of the Kamukura Project. You and I will be seeing a lot of each other over the next few weeks.”

“Few weeks?’ Hajime asked.

“Of course! The project isn’t just going to be plugging your head into a computer and pressing an ‘upload’ button, there's a preamble that goes into this type of thing. Surgery, modification, experimentation, DNA transplants, what have you.”

Hajime dully nodded. He hadn’t been quite sure what he had been expecting, but Nagasawa’s words made sense. He vaguely recalled reading about some research done in Norway to give a rat even just the ability to read language, and it had been an extensive process that involved a lot of intricate brain modification and surgery. He supposed he was to be the rat, now. 

“Son,” Kirigiri said, laying a firm hand on Hajime’s shoulder, “I’ve said it before, but please. This is your absolute last chance to back out. If you even have the slightest doubts, now would be the time to raise them. Otherwise, I can’t help you. This door is the point of no return, young man.”

Hajime’s response was cut off by a hallucination. Because it had to be a hallucination. There was nothing else it could be.

~~~~~~~~~~~

Peko was angry.

No, scratch that. She was furious.

“How dare he,” she thought as her feet pounded against the pavement, “How dare this world!? I chose him! I chose to be with him! Why now? Why tonight!? Why couldn’t I have just had a little more time!? Why didn’t I see this coming!?”

Peko ignored the pain flaring up in her ankle, which she had twisted when she decided to take an entire flight of stairs at once. She ignored the pain in her still-broken arm as it swung. She ignored the pain in her heart, the nagging voice telling her that she was already too late. He would be gone. She had already lost him. The world has already stolen him from her.

She ignored it. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true.

The note, the words of which were imprinted on her mind like a tattoo, had said he had left when it was almost nine pm. She vaguely recalled the clock reading 9:10 as she had dashed out. It was a ten-minute walk from Hajime’s apartment to Hope’s Peak. Peko remembered that from when they had walked there together that morning. So little time ago.

Peko reached the gates of Hope’s Peak in two minutes. She didn’t know how fast she was going. She barely remembered the run here. It didn’t matter. She just had to make it in time.

As she hurtled past the fountain, she cursed as her foot snagged on a rock, sending her sprawling. She ignored the pain that flared as she fell on her injured arm, dragging herself to her feet to continue her run. In the back of her mind, she registered that she had tripped on the same spot that Hajime had turned away from her that morning. The last time she had ever looked into his eyes.

No. She would see them again. Because she had to.

She didn’t know what she would do if she didn’t.

There was nothing else she wanted.

She reached the main campus, and her heart sang with joy as she saw three figures just outside the door.

“HAJIME!” she cried, tears forming in her eyes as she rocketed towards them. The center figure spun around in shock.

It was him.

She had made it.

“P-Peko!?” the boy asked, incredulous.

Peko didn’t take time to catch her breath. She remembered that day in Hajime’s kitchen, when she had been about to make the biggest mistake she could ever have made. Hajime had been the one to stop her then. She had to stop him now.

So she did what he had done.

She punched him in the face.

Hajime staggered back a few steps, reeling as the force of her blow sent his head flying sideways. He fell over his own feet, falling backwards onto the concrete.

“You idiot…” Peko cried, the tears falling down her cheeks like waterfalls, “WHY DIDN’T YOU TELL ME!?”

Hajime just stared back at her, eyes wide, as tears of his own began to form. The shock of the other two figures finally wore off beside Peko.

“Peko Pekoyama!?” Jin Kirigiri exclaimed, “How did you--”

“He left a note,” Peko sobbed, “He left a stupid suicide note for me.”

“Peko…” Hajime whispered, “I’m sor---”

“SHUT UP, HAJIME!” she exclaimed, grabbing the boy by his shoulders, “I won’t let you do this! You can’t do this!”

“But I--”

“NO BUTS!” she wrapped her arms around him, “You can’t leave me, Hajime… You’re the only thing I’ve ever been given that I truly wanted… I won’t let you leave me now.”

“Peko...I…”

Hajime trailed off, tears beginning to stream down his face. Peko ignored the scientist she didn’t know rolling his eyes and scoffing.

“You want to be recognized?” Peko asked, looking into the green eyes that she loved, “You want people to see you as more than how you see yourself? I see you that way, Hajime. I always have. You… you mean so much to me.”

Hajime’s eyes widened, “Don’t lie to me, Peko, please… I can’t bear that from you…”

Hajime gasped in pain as Peko slapped him in the face, crying, “How dare you think that I would ever lie to you?! I have meant every word I have ever spoken to you, Hajime! You’re so special to me, Hajime, how could you possibly not realize that!?”

“Peko…” he murmured, “What I want… from you… you can’t… there’s no---”

Peko shut him up again. Not with a punch or a slap this time.

She felt his entire body stiffen beneath her as she pressed her own lips into his.

The kiss lasted a lifetime as Peko released all the passion she had been forcing down for so long. Hajime stood stock still like a deer in headlights as she expressed her love for him in every way except verbal. One of her hands ran through his hair, her touch sparking enough sense back into him for him to break the kiss.

“Peko… what…”

“I am so incredibly sorry I didn’t make this clear until now,” she cried, still holding him close, “In that respect, this is my fault, but… I won’t keep myself from it anymore. I… I love you, Hajime! You can’t leave me now! Not after I…”

“This can’t be real… you… you can’t…”

“Of course it can,” she smiled at him, “You gave me my life back, Hajime. How could I possibly not fall in love with you?”

“But Fuyuhiko… and the Kuzuryus…”

“Fuyuhiko has released me of my service, Hajime. I’m never going to leave your side again. I promise.”

Hajime gasped at that. Tentatively, he reached up with shaky hands to return the embrace that she had poured onto him.

“E-even though… I d-don’t…” he stammered, tears from his eyes staining his shirt as they fell.

“Talented or not, Hajime,” she said, lifting his chin with her hand so that their eyes would meet, “You’re my everything. My love. My home.”

Before the boy could object further, Peko turned to look at the headmaster, who was watching with a tearful smile of relief.

“Headmaster Kirigiri,” she said, “I’m informing you that I will be dropping out of Hope’s Peak’s main course.”

“N-No!” Hajime exclaimed, “Peko, you can’t! You’re an ultimate! I can’t let you just abandon that on my behalf!”

“But I can,” she whispered back, “I never wanted the talent that gave me that title. I never wanted the life that came with it. But you… living with you, in our apartment… with Nozomu… together… that’s what I want. That, I can choose. And I choose it.”

Kirigiri nodded, “I’ll get the paperwork in right away.”

Hajime’s voice was shaky, “P-Peko… are you s-sure…? Are you really… alright with… being with me?”

Peko kissed him again, and this time he returned it. They pressed their bodies together, relishing in the proximity as they connected. God, it was so long overdue. Peko could feel his heart beating in tandem with her own, their tongues enveloping each other as their arms did the same.

“Kirigiri…” Hajime said once they finally broke apart, “I’m also… dropping out of the reserve course. And the project, if it’s not too late.”

Kirigiri nodded again, “Of course. Sorry, Nagasawa, but it looks like you’ve lost your subject.”

The scientist shrugged, “Oh well. Not like we don’t have back-up plans. I suppose it was always a long shot to get a consensual subject body… we’ve still got the backup the trustees wanted me to grab, so it’s no trouble in the end.”

The headmaster raised an eyebrow, “Backup? What backup?”

The scientist smirked as he began to walk away, “Ask the trustees, I’m sure they won’t answer you.”

The headmaster sighed, turning back to the young couple before him, “You two will be alright. I’m not gonna let any of this come back to bite either of you, don’t worry.”

“Thank you, sir,” Hajime nodded respectfully.

“No trouble at all,” the man smiled, “I’m glad somebody finally got some sense into that thick skill of yours, Hajime. You be good to him, alright, young miss?”

“I would not dream of otherwise,” Peko replied, her eyes never leaving the beautiful green of Hajime’s.

Kirigiri nodded, glancing out at the courtyard, “Well then, I’ll get out of your hair. It seems your friends have arrived.”

As the headmaster walked inside, both Hajime and Peko turned to find the rest of class 77-b, all panting to some degree as they approached.

“You… are seriously… fast, Peko…” Ibuki groaned through sharp breaths.

“So are you two, like, a thing now?” Mahiru asked, glancing at how Peko and Hajime were holding each other.

“You could say that,” Peko smiled back.

“About time, I’d say,” Teruteru nodded, “If you don’t mind me sayin’, y’all have been pretty much endgame for most of the time you’ve known each other.”

The both chuckled at that.

“Yo, Hinata,” Fuyuhiko said, approaching the pair, “I’m leaving Peko in your hands, alright? If you dare break her heart, or hurt her in any way…”

“I wouldn’t dare,” Hajime replied, “Just because she doesn’t technically own her ultimate title anymore doesn’t mean I’m any less terrified of her. Also, you know, I love her to death, so there’s that too.”

Nozomu, who had been trapped in Yukizome’s arms up until that point, finally freed himself and scampered over to the pair, sandwiching himself between them and joining their embrace.

“Oh my stars, he is so precious,” Sonia murmured, dabbing her mascara with a handkerchief.

“Did you say she no longer holds her title?” Gundham asked, “What is the meaning of that?”

“Staying by his side entails giving up my seat at Hope’s Peak,” Peko explained, “And I do it gladly. I’m sorry, but I won’t be a member of your class anymore.”

“Ah, stow that shit,” Nekomaru shook his head, “Doesn’t matter if you’re at school with us or not, you’ll always be a member of our class.”

“Agreed!” Yukizome perked up in response, “We’ll all come visit you two every week! Just because you’ve started a family of your own doesn’t mean you aren’t still a part of ours!”

Peko blushed, glancing from herself, to Hajime, and to Nozomu between them. Her former teacher was right. 

They were a family.

~~~~~~~~~~

“Here we are again,” Hajime muttered, creaking open the door to their apartment.

“Home sweet home,” Peko smiled, looking back at him. Nozomu leapt from her arms and up on to the couch, staring back to the pair intently. Hajime smiled.

“You know, I think it is,” he murmured, “Home, I mean. Finally.”

He shut the door behind them and flicked on the light, illuminating the living room that they had spent so much time together in.

“In a strange way,” Peko giggled, “I think I’m going to miss sleeping on the couch. It has a lot of fond memories for me.”

“What do you m---” Hajime cut himself off as he realized her connotation.

Oh yeah, right. They were a couple now.

“We’re gonna need to buy a bigger bed,” he chuckled, “That hand-me-down single isn’t gonna cut it if all three of us end up sleeping there.”

Peko nodded, “I suppose that means I’ll need to get a job, since we can’t rely on Hope’s Peak’s funding anymore.”

Hajime shrugged, “We should finish high school, at least. Kirigiri should be able to transfer our credits wherever we choose. Takada High is about a half hour’s walk from here.”

Peko nodded, “Whatever we do next, we’ll be alright. I know it.”

“Yeah. So long as we stick together.”

‘I love you, Hajime.”

“I love you too, Peko.”

Nozomu meowed out loud, turning their attention towards him.

“Yeah, yeah, we love you too, Nozomu,” Hajime chuckled, combing his fingers through the satisfied tabby’s fur.

Peko smiled and joined him in petting the cat, who rolled over and presented his belly to them giddily.

The two shared another kiss as the clock struck midnight that night. A new day began, one in which Hajime Hinata and Peko Pekoyama were still together in apartment 3 of the complex on 352 Misakkihommachi, Nagahama-shi. A new day in which they were both still here to enjoy one another’s company.

A new day in which they were a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There. Take your fluff. Enjoy it, I spent a lot of time working up to this.
> 
> Just the epilogue left to write, I'll release it tomorrow, for Valentine's Day. And I think I know the perfect point of view to set it from...


	17. Epilogue: Nozomu

When Nozomu was a kitten, he had gotten into a fight with one of his siblings as they attempted to butt him aside from his mother’s supply of milk. That, of course, had been an indignity that couldn’t go unpunished, so he had butted right back. Unfortunately, the sibling in question had been his sister, the biggest of them all, and also the most short-tempered. The scar over his eye had never let him forget that day.

His face disfigured, Nozomu had begun frightening any people that might have come to adopt him. He didn’t consider himself to be a violent cat, but all the people just fawned over his cuter siblings. No love for the cat with the cloudy eye. Eventually, when the time had come to make room for new kittens, and he had grown too old, the humans who worked at the adoption centre were faced with the difficult choice of putting him down. It was something he had been expecting, he had been prepared. However, what he hadn’t antiicipated was a young girl, a new employee with what he assumed was a heart of gold, turning him loose the night before he was slated to die, after hours. He had never quite gotten the chance to show his thanks for that to the girl, nor had he ever seen her again after he left the shelter for the city. He assumed she was alright.

For the first five years of his life, Nozomu had been a street cat. While having a disfigured eye and a menacing snarl had made wooing potential families difficult, it made staking claim to territory shockingly easy. As well, having been more well-fed than street cats who had been that way their whole lives, he had quickly learned to overpower any who his features didn’t intimidate.

One day, he had decided to go on a different route than usual as he made his rounds. A back route, still going over the same locations, but new scenery. He figured it would do him some good.

Nozomu didn’t know what had drawn him to the window above the flower bed. It wasn’t even a particularly easy window to reach, it required several jumps. Still though, he leapt up without quite knowing why. Maybe boredom. Maybe some calling. He wasn’t sure.

That had been the first time he had met the woman, the one he now knew as “Peko”. He could tell immediately that she had lived a not dissimilar life to his own, though perhaps she had had a roof over her head. Two strays finding one another. Nozomu hadn’t resisted when she tried to pet him. He remembered the sensation of being pet from back in his days at the centre, it was nice.

Something about Peko had drawn him in, he wasn’t quite sure why. He wanted… to know more. So he had leapt through the open window, and hadn’t left since. 

Nozomu was now ten years old. His name, given to him that very same day by Peko, five years ago, was now all he really cared to know. The third member of their family, “Hajime”, was perhaps a little less affectionate than Peko, but still overall kind and enjoyable. Plus, his strange antenna was amusing to fiddle with, as much annoyance as it caused the man.

Nozomu knew that the two would come to be mates from the second he first saw them interacting, but they hadn’t known that yet. It had been rocky, certainly, with many things going on that Nozomu hadn’t understood, but the pair eventually realized how painfully obvious it was that their feelings were shared. With some gentle prodding from Nozomu, of course. Where would those two be without him, honestly.

Nozomu perked up from his favourite place on the couch as he heard the familiar jingle from outside their home. The door creaked open, revealing the two humans, holding hands and smiling at him.

“Hello, Nozomu,” Peko scratched his head, “Did you miss us?”

He had. He always did, whenever they went off to wherever it is that they go.

“I’ll get to fixing supper then,” Hajime said as Peko sat down beside him. Nozomu stood, stretching out and yawning, only to settle back down in Peko’s lap, allowing her to stroke his back as she flipped open a book.

Nozomu had always liked sitting on Peko’s lap. It was comfortable, sure, and her attentions towards him were always appreciated, but as of a week prior, he enjoyed it even more. He enjoyed it for a reason that neither Peko nor Hajime knew yet. But Nozomu knew.

Nozomu wasn’t quite sure what the difference between himself and them was, but he knew he could sense much more than they could. If they could sense what he could, after all, they would have already made such a fuss about what was growing in Peko’s belly. Honestly, the pair of them made such an undue fuss about everything.

Nozomu was excited about having a new face around eventually, to keep him company. Maybe then at least one of the two of them would have to stay behind and keep watch over the new member of their family. Nozomu hoped they didn’t expect him to watch it. Nozomu didn’t like kittens very much, if he was terribly honest.

He knew they’d be fine, however. After all, the short male human and the redheaded human, whose names never quite stuck in his mind, had had their first child a year prior. Those two still occasionally came over for dinner parties, so Nozomu knew that Hajime and Peko would get their advice if they needed it. Somehow he figured that they would still be fine without it, however. He had to credit the pair of them on what they could get through together, even sometimes without his help.

Like two years prior, when Hajime had gotten down on one knee in front of Peko. Nozomu wasn’t quite sure what that meant, but he could tell it was big, and he hadn’t even been pushing Hajime to do it. That made him proud.

“How do you think we should tell him, Nozomu?” Peko asked softly, “Do you think we should surprise him?”

Oh, it seemed Peko actually did know. That made sense, he supposed. He looked up at her before sniffling at the pocket of her suit coat. It had something long and plastic inside that she took out and began fidgeting with. Nozomu wasn’t sure what it was, but if it was important to telling Hajime the secret, he was all for it. He couldn’t wait to see the look on his face.

“Hajime?” Peko said, turning her head to look at the man in the kitchen.

“Yeah?”

“I… have something to tell you after dinner. But I’ll wait until then.”

Hajime cocked his head to one side, “Nothing bad, I hope?”

Nozomu inwardly thought, “If only you knew, buddy.”

Peko just shook her head. Half an hour later, dinner was served, and Nozomu was treated to a few spare scraps of fish off their plates. This was a good day, he decided.

“So what is it that you wanted to tell me?” Hajime asked once their dishes were cleaned and out away, “And why did you want to wait until after dinner?”

“I…” Peko started, “I wanted to have one more dinner as things are, before everything… gets a little more complicated. In a good way, but… complicated.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Hajime…” Peko reached into her pocket and pulled out the small strip of plastic, showing it to the man, “I…”

Peko didn’t need to finish. Hajime just hugged her, a crazy smile breaking across his face.

“Awesome,” the man said.

“Indeed,” Peko replied, hugging him back, “So I take it you’re excited?”

“Oh yeah. You’re gonna be a great mom.”

“Not as good as you will be a dad.”

“How about we’ll both be equally good?”

“That works for me.”

“You’re both already good,” Nozomu thought with satisfaction, “You’re both great, actually. You’ll be fine. We all will.”

Nine months later, Nozomu met Natsumi Hinata for the first time. It was funny, in the back of his mind, he could remember hearing that name before, but he wasn’t sure where. The girl took after her mother, for the most part, with silver hair and slender features, but she had her father’s green eyes. Nozomu loved her instantly. Regardless of how much she tugged at his tail.

He got six more years with them, and he knew he wouldn’t have traded a single second of any of it for the entire world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's 1 am, so it is technically Valentine's Day, as promised, I just haven't really slept. Oh well.
> 
> So this story comes to a close. To be honest, the original idea for this fic came up from watching Peko's free time events again, realizing that Hajime kinda had it bad for her in an adorable way, and then absently trying to think of what situation would have to come up in order for her to reciprocate. One half-hour shower full of brainstorming later, and I was sitting down to write chapter 1.
> 
> Hinapeko does need more love, generally. I feel no shame in admitting that I didn't really ship it myself until I started writing this fic, and now that I'm done, I do somewhat appreciate it more.
> 
> Little tidbit nobody actually picked up on: Nozomu is the romanized version of the Japanese word for "Hope". Yeah, I couldn't resist, but nobody caught me. Teehee.
> 
> Anyway, I truly hope I've been entertaining. And, I dunno, maybe opened some minds to Hinapeko as a ship that hadn't even considered it before. I know Kuzupeko is kind of a given ship to most of the DR community, but I decided to challenge that in a way that I'm actually quite proud of, looking back.
> 
> Let me know what you think/thought. Even if you're finding this story months after it's done, I'd like to hear what you think. Passionate creativity is its own reward, yes, but damn if engagement isn't nice to get, too. You understand.
> 
> Happy Valentine's Day, everybody. Hope you're spending it with some special someone. Or if you're single, just do a lot of self-care or something. Love yourself, instead of falling down the cynical hole of complaining about the commercialization and all that. Or just go read more fanfiction to escape the lonely hole in your stomach, that's probably what I'm gonna do.
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> -SirMuffinsworth


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